


Who We Were, Who We Are

by jamesilver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Coming Out, Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sectumsempra, Sectumsempra Scars, Temporary Amnesia, angst about that lmao, oblivated, post dark mark draco, sectumsempra angst, seriosult theyre fucking adorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesilver/pseuds/jamesilver
Summary: "The last thing I remember is packing for Hogwarts."“Oh, well, dear," Pomfrey began. "You haven't missed much then. It could have been much worse. You've only missed a handful of months—less than a year, even. In fact—““When I was eleven," Draco added.The room froze.“You really don’t remember anything?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head and something in Harry’s eyes changed. “Well, then. I’m Harry. Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Draco.”The girl did a double take at Harry, but Draco didn’t know what for. His own mind was busy reeling. “Harry Potter? As in the Harry Potter?”Harry let out a laugh at that. “I don’t think anyone’s reacted to me like that in a couple of years. It’s interesting, really. But, yes, I suppose. I am the Harry Potter.”“And I...” Draco could barely get the words out. “I make fun of you?”Again, Harry laughed. “Well, we didn’t exactly start things out right. But, we don’t need to go over that right now because we’re busy starting again. So. Draco Malfoy, would you like to be friends?” Draco stared into those open green eyes and he knew that even if his mind didn’t remember meeting Harry, his heart did.“Yes. I would like that very much.”





	1. Hello

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I’m excited for this fic and all its angst!!

He blinked his eyes open, the harsh light making him wince. With more rapid blinking they adjusted and he found himself inside a hospital wing he had never seen before.

What was going on?

And his head hurt like...well like someone had thrown him against a wall. He reached a hand up, groaning. That sound alerted what he assumed to be a meditwitch to come bustling in.

“Draco! So glad to see you're awake." She offered him a potion of some sort. "Drink this."

Trusting her judgement, he took it and swallowed it, his headache immediately easing.

“How are you feeling?" She asked him.

“Much better, thank you, now that—“ He cut himself off abruptly. What was wrong with his voice? Why was it so.... "What's going on?"

Her face turned worrisome. "Well, Draco. This isn't exactly an easy thing to tell a person but, you've been obliviated." Draco's eyes went wide. He— what? "Now, I know this can be a lot, but not to worry. It didn't seem to be too bad. While we unfortunately believe you will not able to regain the memories you lost, it is a bit spotty and we can't be sure. We believe you should still have your general memories— for example, being at Hogwarts and knowing who people are, things like that— but may be missing some details. Some obliviated patients find a total wipe of the memories while others find it much more touch and go. But, we'll see how it is in the coming days."

Draco was still reeling. What did she mean he had been oblivated? When? By whom? He was at Hogwarts? This didn't make any sense. He was going to have to tell Father and—

His and the wediwitch's attention were both drawn away as the door burst open and three teenagers barreled in, one slung between the other two. Two were in deep maroon, Gryffindor quidditch gear, the other was a girl of the same age. But Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to the one in the center.

He was the most beautiful man Draco had ever seen. His eyes were twisted shut in pain as he put his weight on his friends, clearly having broken an ankle or something of the sort. But when he opened them, Draco was confronted by a green more dazzling than he had ever seen.

The man was crying out in pain as his friends tugged him in. The boy on his left—a redhead with sloppy freckles—looked to the meditwitch. "Pomfrey, he fell off his broom. Again. Trying to pull off some fancy trick, no doubt."

The man in the middle let out a harsh laugh through his pain. "It wasn't a fancy trick, Ron. It's called dodging a bludger. You should try it some time." His friends helped him over to set him in a chair and Madam Pomfrey came over and began fussing over him, all with Draco watching on.

Who was this man? Something familiar prickled in the back of his mind, but he just couldn't place him. Couldn't even remember his name.

It wasn't until Pomfrey had made sure the man was alright—but had told him to stay put for the night that the trio even realized that Draco was there. And the moment they did, it was clear they recognized him.

The redhead—Ron—spotted him first, his hand reaching out to tap the girl on the arm. Their attention caused the third—injured, glorious—man to turn as well.

And things got awkward. It was like all the air had been sucked from the room.

It was the man who had been injured that spoke first. He cleared his throat and addressed Draco. "Hey, uh...how are you?" It was asked tentatively, questioningly. Draco didn't know how to answer, but luckily the mediwitch jumped in for him.

“Draco's doing just fine. He just woke up moments before you popped in."

The man's eyes went wide, but his friends were watching Draco with guarded expressions, Ron’s hand still outstretched seemingly to protect the girl. Why?

“What all does he remember?"

Pomfrey gave him a stern glare that said he shouldn't be interfering but he didn't seem deterred. They both looked to Draco for the answer.

He spoke in the voice that still felt too foreign and new. It was too deep. How old was he? "The last thing I remember is packing for Hogwarts."

“Oh, well, dear," Pomfrey began. "You haven't missed much then. It could have been much worse. You've only missed a handful of months—less than a year, even. In fact—“

“When I was eleven," Draco added.

The room froze.

“Holy shit," one of the trio mumbled, but Draco couldn't be sure which one.

The fear was mounting now and he couldn't stand not knowing any longer. "How old am I?"

Instead of Pomfrey answering it was the man. "Sixteen. You're barely a month older than me."

Ron spoke up next. "You mean you really don't remember anything from the past five/six years?" Draco shook his head.

The man shook his head. "I mean, I knew this happened, but I didn't know it was this bad." He met Draco's eyes. "Are you alright?"

No. The real answer was no. Draco was not alright. His mind was reeling. He didn't know what to make of all of this.

“Do you need anything?"

“Are we..." Draco began. "Are we...friends?"

To Draco's astonishment, Ron burst out in a hearty laugh. Oh. So that was a definite no, then. Who would want to be friends with him? It made sense, really.

“Why would we be friends with you?"

“Hey, Ron. This must be distressing for him. Calm down, would you?"

“Calm down?" Ron turned towards his friend now, his tone changing from lighthearted to a tad angry. "Harry, he's done nothing but insult us for five and a half years. I don't particularly care if he's distressed."

Insulting them? Why would Draco do such a thing? What had he done? What had he said?

“You're freaking him out, Ron. Just stop. Be nice, would you?"

Now Ron was definitely angry. "He's called my girlfriend a mudblood, Harry, so I will not just be nice. He may not remember, but he's still Malfoy."

The way Ron spat his name—like it was a curse word—coupled with the knowledge that Draco would have ever used that slur was too much for him to handle. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Hogwarts were supposed to be the years he had planned on getting away from all of what his father had taught him: been a better person and grown. Instead, he was just like his father. He hadn't gotten better, but worse.

“Ron!" Draco heard Harry yell, joined by a feminine voice saying, "Ronald!" chidingly.

“Ron, you made him cry! He doesn't remember anything since he was eleven. Can't you see how difficult that would be? I don't care how he treated us because that's not what he needs right now."

“I don't care about what he needs."

“Well, I do." Draco peeked out through his fingers at that. Harry was trying to stand, leaning up against the chair arm for support."And you don’t have to be here so you can leave.” And leave Ron did.

Harry turned to the girl, still yelling. “What’s his issue?”

“Harry, sit down. It’s alright.” Harry sat, moreso falling, still grumbling.

Then, his attention turned to Draco and grimaced. “Sorry.”

Draco didn’t know how to respond. He was sitting with tears still streaming down his face, trying to come to terms with who he was.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head and something in Harry’s eyes changed. “Well, then. I’m Harry. Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Draco.”

The girl did a double take at Harry, but Draco didn’t know what for. His own mind was busy reeling. “Harry Potter? As in _the_ Harry Potter?”

Harry let out a laugh at that. “I don’t think anyone’s reacted to me like that in a couple of years. It’s interesting, really. But, yes, I suppose. I am _the_ Harry Potter.”

“And I...” Draco could barely get the words out. “I make fun of you?”

Again, Harry laughed. “Well, we didn’t exactly start things out right. But, we don’t need to go over that right now because we’re busy starting again. So. Draco Malfoy, would you like to be friends?” Draco stared into those open green eyes and he knew that even if his mind didn’t remember meeting Harry, his heart did.

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Good because I’m gonna be in the hospital wing all night and I need someone to laugh at my jokes.” Draco gave a little smile at that.

Harry reaches a hand out and lightly hit the girl. “Hermione, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen him truly smile.”

“Well, isn’t that saying something? Considering you stalk him,” she muttered. It was quiet, but Draco still caught it. What did that mean?

His face must have given away that he heard because Harry gave Hermione a scathing look. “I do _not_ ,” he said through gritted teeth.

“All I’m saying, Malfoy,” she said, turning to him. “If you need anyone to show you your class schedule, it’s him because he knows it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said.

“Deny it,” she countered.

“Listen, I would bet ten galleons that before he was obliviated, he knew mine. That’s just the way we are with each other.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked out. “Whatever you say,” she muttered as she left the hospital wing.

After the door closed behind her, Harry hopped up and staggered over to the chair closer to Draco. “Anyway, where were we? I feel like of weird because now I know so much about you and you know nothing about me so....What do you want to know?”

Draco didn’t have to think for long. “What position do you play?”

Harry grinned. “Seeker. Youngest seeker in a century, actually. Started as a first year.”

“You did not,” Draco said, eyes wide.

In response, Harry laughed a little bit. “Yeah. Caught the snitch in my mouth first game.”

Draco glanced down at his hands, unsure of himself. Why was such a cute boy that he had apparently previously bullied being so nice to him? “I always wanted to play quidditch.”

“You do.”

Their eyes met. “Really? What position?”

“Seeker.”

“...Am I any good?”

“In fact, you are the only seeker at Hogwarts who’s been able to put up a fight against me. You haven’t ever beaten me, though, so don’t go thinking _too_ highly of yourself,” he joked. Draco laughed a little bit at that.

“Okay, umm,” Draco thought about another question. “Favorite and least favorite class and why.”

“I love defense except not this year and I hate potions. Not as much this year, but I do still hate it. Why? Hmm. Well, Snape is the literal _worst_ , sorry I know he’s your head of house. I just hate him. And he used to teach potions and now he’s teaching my favorite subject, defense, and— Why are you laughing?”

Draco had a hand covering his face as his shoulder shook with silent laughter. “Snape is my godfather.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and he was clearly embarrassed. “No way! Holy shit, I am so sorry,” he laughed.

“No, no it’s fine,” Draco laughed back. “He’s kind of an arse, isn’t he?”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “He just hates me cause I look like my dad. Next question.”

“What are the Gryffindor dorms like?”

Eyes lighting up, Harry launched into telling him all about Gryffindor tower. He sounded like he loved it.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about what the Slytherin dorms look like...?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Actually.” Harry paused to burst out laughing. “Okay, so little history lesson. It’s our second year, right? So the chamber of secrets got opened, yeah? And—“

“The chamber of secrets was opened our second year?”

“Yeah, but it was no big deal.” Harry waved it off. “Anyway, then Snape and Lockhart—Oh, right!” He snapped his fingers. “Second year our defense teacher was _Gilderoy Lockhart_.”

“What? The man who writes outrageous books about things he definitely never did?”

“The very same. Anyway, Snape and Lockhart opened a dueling club and the first meeting— the only meeting— the rest of the school and I kind of figured out I’m a parseltongue so then you started going around being like _holy shit Potter’s the heir of Slytherin_ and there was a basilisk running around the school and all but that’s not the point. The point is that Hermione brewed a polyjuice in the toilets and Ron and I took it and transformed into two of your friends, Crabbe and Goyle, and snuck into the Slytherin common room for some sleuthing.”

Draco blinked. “I’m sorry that was a lot to process. First, you’re a parseltongue? Second, what do you mean there was a basilisk in the school second year? What? Third, a second year brewing a polyjuice? Damn. She sounds smarter than me.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you two are going to be, like Head Boy and Head Girl. You definitely have the best grades in the school.”

Their conversation continued on like this for hours, going back and forth and asking each other questions about life. Getting to know each other like they were just meeting yet laughing like they were old friends.

To Harry, things felt strange. But nice.

It wasn’t long before the conversation lulled a bit. “One more question,” Draco said, his voice low.

“Shoot.”

He didn’t lift his eyes as he spoke. “What kind of person am I?”

Silence hung heavy for a moment.

“Never mind,” Draco rushed. “You don’t have to answer that. Your friend made it quite clear what kind of person I am. I hurt you and—“

“Hey.” Harry reached out and put a hand on top of Draco’s. “We’ve hurt each other. And that can be who we were not who are.”

Draco’s face scrunched up and he turned to look at Harry. “What do you mean you’ve hurt me? I’ve called your friends slurs and—“

“Take off your shirt.”

Blinking, Draco leaned away from Harry, eyes wide as he jerked his hand back. “I beg your pardon?”

Harry sighed. “I’m not coming on to you or anything. Just...unbutton your shirt. Take a look at your chest.”

Confused, Draco’s hands still moved to begin undoing buttons, but he kept an eye on Harry’s face as he did so. He was looking elsewhere, avoiding the eye contact and seeming very interested in the far wall.

Draco let his shirt fall open and took one last breath staring at Harry’s face before looking down, hoping that whatever this was wouldn’t change things.

He let out a sharp gasp, his hands flying up to his mouth. “Wha—How—I—“ He stumbles over his words, not knowing what to say or how to react. There were two thick scars bisecting his chest. They were about half as thick as his finger, white and scraggly against his pale skin. “What?” He sobbed, his fingers coming down to lightly touch them. He felt nothing.

Looking up, he glanced at Harry who was still invested in the far wall, but there were fresh tear tracks on his face. “Harry?” Draco asked, tentatively. “Care to explain?”

Harry buried his face in his hands, sobbing now. “I’m so sorry, Draco. I’m so sorry, I—“

Draco reached to catch one of Harry’s hands in his own but quickly drew it back before it got there. “Tell me what happened.”

Their eyes met. “It’s the result of years of the two of us crossing lines. But,” he wiped his face on his sleeve. “This year was by far the worst. It started out and I kind of was...eavesdropping on you and your friends on the train underneath my invisibility cloak and you realized I was there and you petrified me and then stepped on my face and broke my nose and covered me with the invisibility cloak and left me there, hoping I would get taken all the way back to London.” He sniffed.

“Then, throughout this year, tensions have been getting higher. Not two weeks before your accident did that happen. I was sort of stalking you, as Hermione said, but we can talk about why later. You don’t need to know about that right now. Anyway, I found you in a bathroom and you were crying and talking to one of the ghosts about something and when you saw me we started dueling and you went to crucio me and I used a spell I read scribbled into the margins of my potions book that I didn’t know what it did and it cut you open and—“ Harry was near hyperventilating now as he spoke. “—and you were bleeding everywhere there was blood _everywhere_ and I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to stop it but Snape came in and he healed you but you were left with some pretty bad scars and I’m so sorry, Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Draco blinked. What was he supposed to even say to that?

He reached out a tentative hand, clasping Harry’s in his own. Harry’s head snapped up to meet his eyes, fear reflected in them.

“I’m not necessarily saying I forgive you for this, especially considering I don’t know the full story,” Draco began slowly. “But, I think I like what you said earlier. How about we let this be who we were and not who we are?”

Harry nodded and wiped his other hand across his face. Then, he smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Let’s, um....Let’s start again.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “We already did that.”

“Yeah and then I fucked up. Third time’s the charm, right?” Draco had no idea what that meant.

“If it takes you three times to get every charm right, I’d say you need to work on listening.”

Harry laughed lightly. “No, it’s a—It’s a muggle saying. Anyway.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Hi. I’m Harry Potter.”

“I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Want to be friends?”

Draco smiled. “I think I’d like that very much, yes.”


	2. Friends

Draco blinked open his eyes. He took a deep breath.    
  
There was brief feeling of  _ where am I _ as he stared at the ceiling before he remembered: he was sixteen years and old and attending Hogwarts. He had been obliviated.    
  
Once that all clicked into place, he remembered all of the events of last night. Specifically one:   
  
Harry Potter.    
  
Turning his head, Draco could see the mess of brown hair poking out from under the covers of the bed next to him. It wasn’t too long into their conversation that Madam Pomfrey had popped her head in and told them that Draco needed his rest.    
  
His still couldn’t believe any of this was happening to him. Of course, waking up and finding out you were missing more than five years of you life was quite startling. But everything with Harry was just so....   
  
It was so much more than that.    
  
Because Harry was so cute and, yes, they apparently had a complicated past but Draco didn’t care. His eyes were so green that Draco just couldn’t bring himself to care about any of that.    
  
He was fairly certain he was in love.    
  
Draco shook his head sharply. No.  _ No _ . He was sixteen years old,  _ not _ eleven. Claiming to be in love after having one conversation with a person is something that a  _ child _ does. He was older than that now and he would have to act like it.    
  
But another part of his brain would argue that last night was not the only conversation he had ever had with him. Just because Draco’s brain has trouble remembering Harry doesn’t mean his heart also got amnesia. He could tell from the way it started racing the moment Harry had walked in the door yesterday: he knew. And he suspected he had liked Harry for a lot longer than 12 hours.    
  
That just didn’t quite explain the whole bullying deal.    
  
What was that all about, anyway? Where had he gone wrong? Draco distinctly remembered looking at himself in the mirror and making a promise that he was not going to be his father. He was going to make friends at Hogwarts and be nice. Where had he gone wrong?    
  
And not only had he definitely not followed his plan, he could have potentially ruined the best friendship he could have ever had: Harry. Last night was amazing, the two of them talking. It was unlike anything Draco had ever experienced before. Not to mention that if he had blown his chances with a friendship, any question of anything more than that shouldn’t even be considered.    
  
He turned to be on his side, giving him a better position to watch Harry sleep. It may have been a little bit creepy, but Draco didn’t particularly care at this point. He really liked Harry.    
  
And they were going to be friends.    
  
There was a soft light that was covering what could be seen of Harry’s head: all of his hair in a tangle of brown curls. All of a sudden, Harry shifted in his sleep and the blankets got pulled down, revealing his face. He looked so calm when he slept. And so beautiful.    
  
Harry heaved out a sigh before popping his eyes open, making direct eye contact with Draco immediately. Draco blushed, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious that he had been watching Harry. That would be creepy. But Harry smiled. And, oh, Draco’s heart sang.    
  
“Goodmorning,” Harry whispered, his voice raspy.    
  
“Goodmorning,” Draco replied. He didn’t know what else to say. And the interesting thing was that he was too busy being mesmerized by the green of Harry’s eyes to care.    
  
“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, but his tone was tentative.    
  
“Same as before. I should be the one asking you that. You fell off a broom yesterday.”    
  
Harry chuckled. “That I did.” With a groan, Harry sat up, his hair sticking out in all directions. Draco couldn’t help but smile: everything about him was so adorable.     
  
“How long do you have to stay in here?” Harry asked. “Pomfrey tell you?”    
  
“I’ve no idea.”    
  
“Well, I probably have to get back to classes for today. Wish I didn’t, though. I really enjoyed talking to you last night.”    
  
So this was it then. Draco’s one chance at friendship was over. Of course he knew Harry would have to leave so soon, but did he have to say it like that? “I enjoyed it too,” Draco said.    
  
“If she makes me leave and go to class, I promise to visit as often as I can. I have a free period, then there’s lunch and I’ll come sit and talk for, like, the entire time before dinner, okay?” Wow. Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Harry really did want to be friends.    
  
“Yeah, okay.” Harry opened his mouth to respond but before he could say anything, Pomfrey entered the room and began shoo-ing Harry out the door. Just before he left Draco’s line of sight, he paused and flashed a dazzling smile.    
  
Was this really Draco’s life right now?    
  
It wasn’t until Harry left that things sort of started to set back in: Draco was sixteen. That was a whole, new adjustment. He couldn’t believe all of the things he had missed. Oh, and there was so much more he wanted to know.    
  
Like, first: did he have friends? Because they would be who he would ask about his life, but he didn’t even know who they were! This was so utterly confusing.    
  
Not to mention—had his father been notified? How long ago had this all happened? Of course, Draco assumed not long but at the same time....What was going on?    
  
After making sure Harry was well on his way to class, Pomfrey came back to Draco.    
  
“I’m sure you have questions,” she said. Draco could only nod. Where would he begin?   
  
“When did this happen?” Was what he decided to start with.    
  
“Two days ago. Including yesterday when you woke up, that is.” Pomfrey smiled at him, clearly trying to be encouraging. “Later today we’ll have in an expert on the obliviation charm come in from St. Mungo’s to have a better look at you, alright?”    
  
Draco nodded, still somewhat in a daze. “How did this happen, exactly?”    
  
“You were in defense against the dark arts. Professor Snape was having the class practice dueling and your partner hit you with an obliviate. I will assure you the student has been reprimanded; they were told not to use spells that would have any lasting effects as the class was only just beginning to work on advanced defensive charms.”    
  
Again, Draco nodded. Okay, so it made sense. Then, an interesting thought struck him. “Do you think I would remember how to cast certain spells? Is it like walking and talking or is like trying to remember a person or a place?”    
  
Pomfrey smiled him. “I’m not quite sure if I could answer that question. This seems to be a powerful case and I’m afraid I’ve never dealt with anything quite like it. You’ll have to ask the expert later today.”    
  
“Could I just try with a wand?”    
  
“I’m afraid not. I don’t particularly feel comfortable having you just try any spell right now. Do you understand?”    
  
As much as Draco was disappointed, yes, he did understand. “Yes, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you, though. One more question? Have my parents been alerted?”    
  
Pomfrey nodded. “An owl was sent not too long after you were brought in. I have to say, though, I do not believe we have received a response.”    
  
Draco’s eyebrows shot up. No one had sent a Howler yet? No one had been fired yet? That seemed very unlike his father. He wondered what was keeping him so preoccupied.    
  
“Do you have any other questions?”    
  
After thinking on it for a moment, Draco decided there was nothing else that she could answer. “No, but thank you, Madam Pomfrey.”    
  
“Of course, dear. I’ll let you know when the expert arrives.” With that, she left him alone.    
  
He only had to sit there for a matter of moments when Draco realized exactly what this meant: he had absolutely nothing to do. He was supposed to just sit here all day? What was this?    
  
“Psst,” came from his side, startling him and causing him to jump up in the air about three damn meters. He looked to his left, however, and saw the space empty.    
  
Just as he had decided that it must have been his imagination, Harry’s head appeared in the middle of the air. What was this? An invisibility cloak?    
  
“Get under here,” Harry whispered before holding out a hand, revealing that yes, this was indeed an invisibility cloak.    
  
Unsure if he should be leaving the hospital wing, Draco got up from the bed anyway and soon found himself pressed up against the body of Harry Potter underneath an invisibility cloak. The small space made things a little uncomfortable—mostly because Draco was sure he was blushing profusely.    
  
“What are you doing?” Draco whispered.    
  
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you in a minute,” Harry replied. “Follow my lead.”    
  
Walking while keeping the cloak across both of them was not as difficult as Draco had thought it would be. Then again, he was sure their feet were poking out at times. But, no matter. It wasn’t like anyone caught them.    
  
They slipped out of the hospital wing quietly, Draco following Harry down the walls of Hogwarts. It was quite strange, walking down these halls, because some part of Draco still  _ knew them _ even if he couldn’t remember ever being in them. It was like an implicit memory—something he couldn’t shake.    
  
Harry took them through winding halls, somehow always knowing when someone was coming, able to press their invisible bodies against the wall before a prefect or a Professor went walking by. At one point Harry almost sneezed, causing the Slytherin prefect—a girl with dark hair—to stop and look around. Luckily, she continued moving down the hall and Harry and Draco were able to laugh quietly about it.    
  
They eventually came to a blank expanse of wall where Harry pulled the cloak off of them. “Okay, walk three times in front of here and think about what activity you would like to do.”    
  
“Why?” Draco asked.    
  
Harry shrugged. “Well, I was bored in potions so I figured you must be dying of boredom in the hospital wing. Go ahead,” he nodded.    
  
Confused, Draco did as he was told and a door appeared on the wall. What was this place?    
  
“It’s the Room of Requirement,” Harry told him as he stepped forward, grasping the handle of the door. “Come on. I think it’s best to just show you.” He turned the knob and they entered.    
  
It was wall to wall with books. A large smile spread across Draco’s face as he took in the shelves. If he was being quite honest, he hadn’t really thought of anything in particular while he walked back and forth. He had just thought about how bored he was and that he wanted something to do. Apparently, the room gave that to him.    
  
“Books?” Harry asked. “That’s what you wanted.”    
  
“I love books,” Draco replied, still staring out at the shelves and shelves of volumes. It was beautiful. It was mesmerizing.    
  
Harry shut the door behind him.    
  
“But really,” Draco said, turning to him. “I kind of want to talk.”    
  
“What about?” Harry asked, beginning to stroll around the room.    
  
“I don’t know. I suppose I kind of have questions about nearly everything I encounter. For example, the Slytherin prefect—she was alone. Where’s the other one?”    
  
Harry turned towards him, a smile on his face. “You’re the other Slytherin prefect.”    
  
Draco made a face, faking a gag. “I’m a prefect? How?”    
  
“I told you yesterday: you have some of the best grades in the school. Come on, I thought Slytherins were supposed to be all about ambition. I’d say prefect is ambitious.”    
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re so simple minded, thinking ambition can only be one thing.” Draco too began strolling around the room, his eyes focused on spines. “It’s across all different kinds of topics. Me? It was always Quidditch. I had dreams, aspirations. I suppose I probably changed them when I found out I wasn’t good enough. But, you have to remember that I never  _ wanted _ to be the best with my grades. I’m not a Ravenclaw.”    
  
“Oh, and you’re saying that I’m stereotyping?” Harry laughed. “Ravenclaws have some of the worst grades! In my experience, they all have one topic that they’re obsessed with. You know what I mean?”    
  
“Harry, do I have any friends?” Draco asked, abruptly changing the topic. He almost wished he hadn’t: they had such a nice mood going. But the question was beginning to nag at him.    
  
“Well, that girl we saw in the halls. Her name’s Pansy Parkinson. I actually thought for a while that you two were dating but I don’t think that’s the case or I feel like she would have been to see you by now.”    
  
Draco stopped walking. “I feel like if we were friends she would have been by to see me by now.”    
  
He could feel Harry moving across the room to him. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m sure she just doesn’t know that you’re awake. It’s not common knowledge.”    
  
“Anyway,” Draco said, shaking it off. “We’re not dating. I can tell you that much.”    
  
“How?” Harry asked and the confusion could be heard in his voice.    
  
“I’ve known for a long time that I’m gay. And, there’s a lot I’ve done to make my father happy but even fake dating a girl would never be one. I don’t care how different I’ve turned out to be than what I wanted—I would never do that.”    
  
“Draco, look at me.” Draco turned around, as Harry asked, to face him. “There’s something I should probably tell you. Let’s sit.” He gestured towards two chairs that were sitting between a few shelves. Had those been there?    
  
As the two made their way to sit, Draco’s heart began to beat fast in his chest. What was Harry going to say to him? Would this be the moment that it all ended and he would go back to being friendless?    
  
They sat down across next to other and things were silent for a moment as Harry struggled with how to begin.    
  
“Two years ago, something major happened,” Harry began. “It was at the end of the year.” He took a deep breath and looked Draco in the eyes. “Voldemort came back.”   
  
Draco flinched violently at the name, an instant reaction.    
  
“Sorry,” Harry apologized. “I always forget how people react to me saying his name.”   
  
“No, I—I’ve never reacted like that before. I mean, sure it makes me uncomfortable like everyone else but that....No, nothing like that.” Draco paused. “Why are you telling me this? Is it really serious?”    
  
“Of course it’s serious,” Harry said. “He’s back. That, and....” He trailed off for a moment, as if he didn’t know how to say all that was ahead. “Look, I’ve only had some random theories and I don’t want to put all of them into your head. But, what I can say for sure is that...well, when he came back I was there. I saw the whole thing. Including him summoning his Death Eaters. Draco, your father was among that group.”   
  
It was a lot to take in, but Draco could handle it. When Harry first mentioned that the Dark Lord was back, he supposed he had been expecting it anyway. He knew his father served the Dark Lord in the first war. He could only assume it would be the same if it ever happened again. It made sense.    
  
But what did all of that mean? How had it changed his life? How—   
  
Fear gripped Draco’s heart and his breath began to come in short gasps. Harry reaches out towards him.    
  
“Draco, what is it? Are you alright?”    
  
He blinked and tears ran down his face. “My father, is he—“ Draco couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t hear a yes. “Is he dead?”    
  
“No,” Harry rushed out. “Last I saw he was fully alive, I promise you. Draco, why would you think that?”    
  
He let out a panicked breath, all in a rush. “It’s just, the school sent a letter about what happened and they apparently haven’t even sent a response. I just assumed the worst, I—“ He cut himself off, pressing a hand to his chest.    
  
“He probably didn’t answer the letter because he’s busy with Death Eater business,” Harry said.    
  
Draco nodded, sure that was the case. “I know you think that what he’s doing and has done is atrocious, but he is still my father. I love my family and I would make sacrifices for them. You have to know that.”    
  
Harry swallowed, his face becoming a little more unreadable than it had been. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he said, quietly.    
  
What did that mean? Where was Harry going with this?    
  
“You see,” Harry began. “I’m fairly certain that Death Eater headquarters is at Malfoy Manor. That would mean that you have spent two summers with all of them.”    
  
Harry stopped there, clearly not wanting to imply any more. But Draco knew what he was getting at. He didn’t have to be any more clear, did he?    
  
They each held each other’s eyes, both wanting to stay in this moment where neither quite knew for sure. As Harry had said, he only had theories, right? Just theories. They may always be wrong.    
  
But Draco couldn’t sit here and not know.    
  
He wanted to know what kind of person he was, hadn’t he? Well, here was the answer, wasn’t it?   
  
Slowly, he reached his right hand down, pausing for a moment and placing it on his left forearm though the sleeve. Still keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s, he wrapped his fingers around his sleeve cuff and pulled it up.


	3. Ligilimens

There was a pause, then, Draco’s sleeve hovering in the space above his elbow. Harry’s eyes darted down almost immediately and Draco screwed his shut, not even wanting to see Harry’s reaction. He just couldn’t watch. He just couldn’t know.

He felt Harry’s warm hand closing around his right wrist, compelling him to open his eyes. Draco did, meeting Harry’s green ones but still refusing to look down. He couldn’t bear to see that ugly thing marring his skin.

But the pity and sadness in Harry’s eyes told him already what he needed to know.

Tears welled up in his eyes. No, he couldn’t—how could he have—no. Biting his lip, He screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do it. Just—no.

“Draco...” Harry began but Draco held out his hand to stop him. He didn’t need him to say anything right now. It was all crashing down.

This was all so unfair! He wakes up, finds out that _he_ is a terrible person with extensive memory loss and then it just gets worse. It was like he got worse in such a small period of time. Like it had happened so quickly and he couldn’t even review the circumstances in which he had become the worst person he knew.

Standing up, Draco knew one thing: he needed to look at himself in a mirror. He needed to know who he was.

Turning to his right, a mirror had already appeared on the wall. Crossing behind his chair, he walked up to it, staring himself in the face.

He looked the same. Mostly. For the most part. He supposed. Natural signs of age were evident: a more defined facial structure, his hair was slightly different. But that wasn’t the part that made him pause.

Reaching up, Draco touched his face. He looked partly like a ghost, his skin was so pale. Around his eyes were dark bags. He shuddered to think he had let himself get this way. But, he supposed that being a Death Eater would do that to a person. The constant stress of being found out, being under Voldemort’s gaze.

Still unable to look down to see the Dark Mark marring his skin, he turned back to look at Harry who was sitting with his elbows on his knees, hunched over.

“Help me,” Draco pleaded. “Please. You have to help me.”

Immediately, Harry stood and walked to Draco, hands outstretched. Seeing that Draco was clearly beginning to panic, he placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, looking into Draco’s eyes. “You need to calm down.”

But Draco was sucking in shallow breaths right after one another. He had no visual memory of seeing the Dark Lord, but the rest of him did. Something visceral that brought up this panic inside of him that he never knew existed.

“Draco, listen to my voice,” Harry said. “It’s okay. Things are going to be fine. I am going to do what I can to help you and—“

Gasping, Draco’s eyes widened and it was like a searing pain erupted in his mind. Harry stepped back from him abruptly, hands held out like he had somehow caused it.

Pausing now, Draco stared off into the distance in his state of utter terror. Harry remained where he was, giving Draco space.

But then, Draco blinked, releasing a single tear to roll down his face. Quietly, he spoke, his voice raw. “It’s not just me that needs help. It’s my family. He threatened my family.”

“But, Draco, how—“

Not meeting Harry’s eyes, Draco cut him off. “I remember. I remember him threatening my mother.” It was true. He didn’t know where the memory had come from, but it was playing out in front of him so clearly; he couldn’t deny it.

“Draco....” Harry began, slowly. “That’s...well, it’s impossible. You don’t get memories back from an obliviate.”

“You think I don’t know that, Potter?” Draco snapped. “I’m not stupid.” At the look on Harry’s face, Draco paused, mentally reviewing what he had just said. Slowly, he met Harry’s eyes. “What was that?”

“Sounded a lot like how we usually talk. But, let’s go back. You remember him threatening your mother?”

Nodding, Draco recalled the memory again. “The circumstances aren’t clear right now. It’s like something just—“ He snapped. “—brought that up but I can’t get what immediately surrounded it. He was telling me to do something and was pointing his wand at my mother and threatening to kill her if I didn’t. I don’t know what it was, though. And I think that’s the scariest part of this all. He could have made me do anything and I would have done it.”

Again, Harry’s hands came to Draco’s shoulders. “Hey. Don’t think like that. There’s no point.”

“Harry, I have no idea who I am or what I have done.”

Now, Harry’s hands moved upwards, grabbing at the sides of Draco’s face, all while staring intensely in his eyes. “You’re Draco Malfoy. You’re a bit of a git, but you’re not evil. What you’ve done because _he_ told you to is not important. It doesn’t define you.”

When Harry finished his impromptu little speech, both of them quickly realized exactly how they were standing and Harry pulled back quickly, clearing his throat in the awkwardness. Both avoided each other’s eyes for a moment, not really sure what to say or do about that. Draco was sure that there was a blush rising on his cheeks.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, suddenly.

“Why?” Harry asked, looking back to Draco now, but there was no need. A clock had already appeared on the wall behind them.

“Shit,” Draco cursed. “Three hours have passed. What the _fuck_? I have to get back to the hospital wing. There’s supposed to be an obliviation expert from St. Mungo’s coming today and I hope I haven’t...missed...” Draco trailed off as he turned, looking until he spotted the door and running to it, flinging it open. His entire focus of coming here was to get answers but the expert could potentially give him more answers than Harry Potter.

Harry was close behind him, slipping through the door just before it closed behind Draco. It promptly vanished behind him, but Draco had no time to pay that any mind. Quickly, Harry ran to Draco’s side and threw the invisibility cloak around both their shoulders as they sped down the hallways, Harry tugging on Draco’s arm to guide him back the right way to the hospital wing.

Within minutes, they were creaking open the door and slipping Draco back into bed.

“ I should...” Harry’s voice began from somewhere to the side of Draco’s bed. “I should go. I’ll come visit you later,” he promised.

Draco nodded in response, uncertain to whether Harry was still even there to see it or if he had already turned to walk away. He could only hope that he hadn’t been discovered by Pomfrey.

It was barely a few minutes before she wandered over to him, clearly surprised at seeing him. “You’re awake,” she remarked. “I’m so sorry for this morning, Draco, but that student got a nasty burn in potions that I had to work out. Well, I just wanted to come and give you a heads up, as I’m fairly certain the expert from St. Mungo’s should be on her way.”

As she turned, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. So she didn’t know he had snuck out and he hadn’t missed the expert. Thank Merlin. He would have killed Harry if either of those things had happened.

It turned out that he didn’t end up waiting long. Not too long later, he had heard the telltale sound of a floo from somewhere outside of his vision, followed by chatter between what was clearly Madam Pomfrey and someone else. The sounds grew closer and Draco found himself staring into the eyes of a startling witch.

Her eyes were dark and piercing, and Draco felt like looking into them made him want to squirm. Something about them was so intense and Draco felt compelled to look away.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, her deep voice ringing in the air. “My name is Ms. Topfeld. I understand you have been obliviated and have lost all memory from the past five to six years. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Draco nodded.

Next, she turned to Pomfrey and began peppering her with questions about the incident. They seemed to come in rapid fire and Ms. Topfeld didn’t take notes.

Abruptly, she turned back to Draco. “You’ve been awake for how long?”

“Around 24 hours,” Draco responded.

“Have you had any memories come back to you since then?”

Here was Draco’s chance to get answers. “Yes. One.”

“What was it?” Ms. Topfeld asked, again looking him directly in the eyes. Draco jerked, avoiding her gaze. Something told him to do so.

“The memory is fairly private,” was all he said.

“Mr. Malfoy, to help me understand if you’ll be getting more pieces of memories, I have to understand about how you got this one and what it was about. Or do you not want to know?”

Still avoiding those piercing eyes, Draco responded. “The memory was triggered by a conversation I was having. It was involved my mother and the conversation began to steer her way and I remembered it. It was also a memory with a severe emotional attachment, as I was very distressed in the creating of it. It seemed to come from the past year or two. Is there any other information you might need, Ms. Topfeld?”

A dense pause hung in the air. “Mr. Malfoy, please look into my eyes.”

Draco refused. He didn’t know why, but there were alarm bells ringing throughout his brain, telling him that that would _not_ be a good idea. But he couldn’t place his finger on _why_.

“Mr. Malfoy, if you refuse to cooperate, I’m afraid I cannot help you.” She paused. “Please look into my eyes.”

“Why?” Draco blurted out.

“I need to search your mind with ligilimency. It’s the only way I can truly know the extent of the obliviation.”

Something in Draco had tightened at the word ligilimens. A cold fear began to grip his heart, making it’s way up his throat to freeze anything he could possibly say. No. No, he would not have anyone in his mind. That was—

In his panic, his eyes had begun to wander and they caught Ms. Topfeld’s for a brief moment. She jumped on the opportunity, quietly muttering, “ _Ligilimens_ ,” before Draco was able to even react.

He felt her beginning to push into his mind and his arms came up as if to fight to her off. But what could he do? He had no idea how to defend from her invasion. All he knew was that he wanted her _out_.

Draco heard a cry as the world righted itself, his consciousness coming back into the hospital wing. Ms. Topfeld has crashed onto the floor and was staggering to her feet, holding her forehead. She glared at him angrily.

“Mr. Malfoy, I was not aware that you were so skilled at Occlumency. Please refrain from using such a skill this next time so I may assess the damage of the obliviation. Ligili—“

“No,” Draco interrupted. “Ms. Topfeld, I understand that this would be the only way to assess the damage. But I am not having anyone in my mind. If you attempt a ligilimens again, I will throw you out again and I expect more violently this time. If that’s the only way you can assess the damage, then so be it, I will just have to not know. You are not going into my mind, do you understand me, Ms. Topfeld? Thank you greatly for your coming all the way out here, but if you can do nothing else then you should be on your way, yes?”

Silence hung heavy in the room as both women at the foot of the bed stared at him in incredulity. Eventually, however, Ms. Topfeld righted herself and straightened her jacket. Without a word, she turned and headed back in the direction of the floo. Ms. Pomfrey shot him a bit of a glare before running off after her.

Draco sat back against the pillows now that he was alone, terrified at what he had just done. Did he know _occlumency_? Where had he learned that? It would explain why he had such a reaction to someone being in his mind if he had had someone in there before. The only question was...who? Draco shuddered to think that it could have been _him_. If that was the case, then Draco never wanted to know.

It would also explain why he knew something was strange about her eyes; he knew to avoid them. A ligiliemens requires eye contact and something in Draco had picked up on that.

He supposed it was a downside that now he wouldn’t be able to get any answers. They would all continue on having no idea how bad the damage to his brain was and if he would continue getting memories back, or only certain memories, or a thousand other things Ms. Topfeld could have told him. But, regardless of all of that, he was glad that he hadn’t allowed her in his mind.

His mind was his, dammit. And apparently he knew what it felt like to let that get away from him.

It wasn’t another memory, not exactly, but he knew the feeling of having someone poke around in his brain. He didn’t know how, but it was there, like a finger coated in slime just shoving it’s own brutal way through, with no care for how wrecked it would leave Draco. The reaction of his body, of his emotions was all Draco had to go on and it was enough that he was sure glad he knew occlumency.

Now, Madam Pomfrey appeared again, a stern look ready for Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, that women was an expert at her job and potentially the only person that could help you. Why you would refuse treatment is beyond me. I must also say that your behavior to her was quite rude. But,” she uncrossed her arms, her expression softening. “I understand that a ligilimens is an invasive spell and all patients have the right to refuse treatment. In fact, you were refusing it the first time and her catching you off guard with it was, quite frankly, unprofessional and unethical. So, I am giving you the option of writing to her superiors at St. Mungo’s to report her for such behavior. If you weren’t such a skilled occlumens, she would have invaded your mind without your consent and that is highly unethical.” Madam Pomfrey paused. “I suggest you write. I will sign off on it if you choose to do so, but ultimately it simply an option proposed to you. Now, after that ordeal, I suggest you get some rest.”

Without waiting for his response, Pomfrey turned and left him alone with his thoughts. While it was very kind of her to give him the option of writing to St. Mungo’s about the whole thing, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted the business about him being an occlumens to be put down on paper. Something told him it was definitely a secret. He supposed he could ask Harry later what he thinks he should do.

That thought brought him back around. Harry.

Would he stop by later? Would he talk to anyone about what was happening with Draco’s family? Would he be able to help Draco?

His family was another thing, wasn’t it? There was still no response from his parents about the news of his obliviation. Personally, Draco thought it was a tad important and, well, jarring to say the least. But it seemed that his parents had nothing to say on the matter. It all brought Draco back to the point that he had questioned Harry on earlier:

Were his parents dead?

Being busy with Death Eater business was one thing, but for this long? To not respond to an _emergency_ , a _crisis_? Did they not care?

Draco shook the thought of their death away from him. If he lingered on it, he just may go insane. There was always the possibility that the letter had gotten intercepted or, less likely, lost. Of course. That had to be it.

But even thinking about the manor set a cold feeling in his bones; there was this _need_ he had to never go back there. It was so strange to have these feelings but never be knowing where they were coming from.

Sighing, Draco placed his head in his hands. He was so fucking lost. He didn’t know anything. And it wasn’t like he even knew who to ask to get answers.

Sitting up straight, he decided he would try and send a letter to his mother. The one from the school would most likely have been addressed to his father: everyone knew that if anything happened to a Malfoy, Lucius was going to come for them, so the letter had likely explained the situation and pleaded for forgiveness. But his mother would likely be the one to respond.

He cast a quick glance around before getting out of bed and starting to creep over to the door. He would just have to sneak off to the owlery and—

Stumped, Draco stopped where he stood. He didn’t know where the damn owlery was. Trudging back over to the bed, he was quickly reminded just how helpless he was in his current situation. Fuck, he wasn’t even allowed to have his wand.

Sitting back down, he folded his hands in his lap. He supposed he would just have to wait because he couldn’t do _fucking anything_ and it was the most frustrating thing to ever happen to him.

It was then that the door creeped open and a familiar face slipped in, coming to Draco’s side with a blinding smile. Harry was back.


	4. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention that I LOVE Ron Weasley (AKA Best Friend Ever AKA The Samwise Gamgee of This Series AKA Our King) SO MUCH
> 
> PLEASE READ:: TW::  
> tw suicidal thoughts

He and Harry ended up once more talking for ages about all of the topics they could think of talking about. It was over an hour later that the door opened and two other people snuck into the hospital wing, Draco and Harry’s happy moment coming to an abrupt end.    
  
It was Hermione and Ron.    
  
Of course, Hermione wasn’t the problem. Rather, it was Ron’s presence that caused the smile to drop off of Draco’s face. It just reminded him of all of the bad things he had done. He couldn’t escape them, could he? They would chase him for the rest of his life, little ghosts that he had never met.    
  
Harry, however, stopped laughing for an entirely different reason, the air between him and Ron growing strangely tense until Hermione nudged Ron.    
  
“Harry, can I talk to you in the hall, please?” Ron asked.    
  
“No. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of Draco.”    
  
At this, Ron’s face turned from what was clearly trying to be polite to downright rage. “Are your fucking serious? We’ve been best friends for  _ years _ and you’re suddenly taking someone else’s side? Harry, this isn’t even about Malfoy anymore. I’m your  _ best friend _ or at least I thought I was and you—“ Ron broke off, stopping to take a deep breath, clearly getting choked up. “I thought we were best friends. Yet, you don’t even want to try and hear me out, hear my perspective.”    
  
Harry didn’t seem much fazed by Ron getting emotional. His face remained neutral. “You didn’t want to hear Draco out.”    
  
“Fucking hell, Harry! That’s not what this is about!”    
  
Snapping, Harry stood up, for a second looking like he was going to lunge at Ron but remained in place. “Yes, it is!”   
  
“You don’t care what I feel!”    
  
“How can you talk about empathy when—“    
  
“I just feel like as your best friend I’ve been taking a backseat to Malfoy for years.” When Ron finished speaking, a quiet came into the room. Slowly, anger began to subside from Harry as he processed for a moment before apparently giving up to confusion.    
  
“I don’t understand,” Harry said.    
  
Ron’s hands came up to screw at his eyes before he smoothed down his hair and took a deep breath. “I just feel like everything has always been Malfoy at every turn. We got detention because of you and Malfoy, we had to sneak into the Slytherin common room because of Malfoy, had to get back at Malfoy, you always had the Quidditch rivalry with Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy. It’s just been constant. Forever. It’s really starting to grate on me because I just always felt like he was never really worth that much of your attention when he was going to do some shit like make you faint and fall off your broom in the middle of a quidditch match.    
  
“I mean, think about it Harry. How many of our adventures as friends over the years  _ haven’t _ involved him?” Now, Ron’s voice became quieter. “Sometimes that first day at Hogwarts haunts me. Sometimes I feel like you regret defending me.”    
  
At the end of this speech, Ron glanced up to Harry and found that his eyes had welled up with tears and there was clear guilt written across his face. Quite frankly, it mirrored Draco’s own, even without the context of the history. It was all his fault.    
  
Not missing a moment, Harry ran to his best friend, throwing his arms around Ron’s shoulders and tackling him in a hug. After a few seconds, Harry pulled back, his hands on Ron’s shoulders as he looked him in the eyes. “Don’t ever think that. I don’t regret that day  _ at all _ . Ronald Weasley, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Who else could I steal a flying car with? Who else could I take polyjuice with as a twelve year old? Who else is so damn good at chess that it saved our lives when we were eleven?  _ Who else _ would face gigantic spiders—a larger form of their  _ greatest fear _ —for me? I mean, hell Ron. You remember fourth year. You’re what matters most.”    
  
Again, the friends embraced. When they pulled back, both were wiping away tears.    
  
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ron,” Harry said. “I’ll try and be better.”    
  
Ron nodded, giving a small smile. “Yeah, well....I’m sorry for snapping at Malfoy.”    
  
Harry raised his eyebrows. “I think you could apologize to him, you know.”    
  
“Yeah, but that sounds hard,” Ron said, laughing a little bit to make it clear he was only joking.    
  
“Ronald Weasley, you faced the whomping willow, you can face Malfoy with amnesia.”    
  
A slow moment passed as the rest of the room watched Ron. Draco especially sat and waited, unsure of what outcome he wanted.   
  
Ron stepped forward, coming up to the side of where Draco was sitting. He looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said. I can’t imagine how difficult this all must be for you.”    
  
It was all too much, Draco decided. He couldn’t handle it. Unable to help himself, he burst into tears again. “How could you say that?” He sobbed.    
  
“That wasn’t sarcastic,” Ron rushed out. “I really was trying to apologize, I—“    
  
“No,” Draco continued, taking a deep breath to try and control himself. “How could you apologize to me? After all I did? I deserve your hate.” He wasn’t even able to look Ron in the eyes as he spoke, instead staring off into the distance.    
  
“Hey, we all make mistakes,” Ron said, his tone casual. “And you’re clearly sorry about it. Hell, you don’t even remember what you did!”    
  
“I’ve learned enough,” Draco said, his voice quiet and raw. “I’ve learned enough about myself to want to drown myself in the lake.”    
  
“Hey, don’t say that,” Harry rushed in, coming over to Draco.    
  
“It’s true,” he said, heaving another sob. “I shouldn’t be alive. I should just kill myself, I—“   
  
Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulders and shook him slightly, forcing him to look Harry in the eyes. “Don’t. Say. That.”    
  
Draco swallowed heavily. “You saw it,” he said, his voice barely heard.    
  
“That doesn’t not define you!” Harry near yelled.    
  
“Then what does? Tell me what I am that is not a Death Eater.” He shrugged, tears rolling down his face. “You can’t.”    
  
Harry’s hands moved to up to cup Draco’s cheeks, subconsciously wiping away his tears. “That doesn’t define you,” he repeated.    
  
Slowly, Draco shook his head. “I don’t know what else does.”    
  
Straightening up, Harry squared his shoulders. “Well then,” he said. “I guess we’ll have to just find something, then, won’t we?”    
  
Draco gave him a confused look and Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. “Do you believe Draco is so unbelievably evil that he is irredeemable?”    
  
“No,” they both said in unison.    
  
“Do you believe that people can right their wrongs?”    
  
“Yes,” Hermione said proudly, faster than Ron could agree with her.    
  
Harry turned back to Draco. “If Hermione has faith in you, you’re on the right path. Trust me, I speak from experience. She never has faith in me and I have a near-death experience every year.”    
  
“You can’t just say that people have the ability to change and then use that as reason for me not being a bad person. It’s so much more than that. Harry, I don’t even know all that I’ve done.”    
  
“Well, let’s see,” Ron said, beginning to count off on his fingers. “When I first met you, you insulted my family, you called Hermione that slur...once? twice? Anyone know? Uh...And then after you called her that I tried to curse you but my wand was broken so I ended vomiting slugs for...quite a while. Second year you spread rumors that Harry was evil because, well, the chamber of secrets was opened and—“   
  
“I already told him all that,” Harry cut in.    
  
“Oh, okay,” Ron said. “Third year you were not nice to a hippogriff and he scratched you and you made sure the  _ entire wizarding world _ knew you were dying and then there was a trial for Buckbeak and we had to illegally use a time turner to free him and send him away with an escaped convict. That year you also were really nasty in Hagrid’s class and said some bad things about him and Hermione punched you in the face and that moment is still tied for the best memory I have ever had—“   
  
“What’s the other one?” Harry asked.    
  
“‘There’s no need to call me sir, Professor.’” Ron imitated, laughing. “Anyway, what else? What are the Malfoy highlights? Oh! Harry faints every time he comes near a dementor and you heard about that so you dressed up as a dementor during a quidditch match and made him fall off of his broom third year. What’d he do fourth year?”    
  
“I was a little distracted trying not to die at every turn in the triwizard tournament while also dealing with you two and your young love and your Krum obsessions,” Harry said.    
  
“It was not an obsession!” Ron yelled. “Anyway, skip to last year, then.”    
  
“The Inquisitorial Squad,” Hermione said.    
  
“Yeah. You just walked around and were a mean prefect but Umbridge style. This year, now much, honestly,” Ron said. “So there. Those are the worst highlights. Still convinced you’re the worst person ever?”    
  
The trio looked at Draco, all of their faces shining with hopeful smiles. Unable to believe them and their overwhelming need for his redemption, Draco looked each one in the eyes individually. Then, he pulled up his left sleeve, turning his forearm to face them.    
  
“Still believe I’m not?”    
  
Ron’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. Hermione’s hands flew up to her face in shock as she gasped.    
  
“Draco, that’s hardly fair,” Harry interjected. He turned to Ron and Hermione. “He remembered Voldemort threatening his mother’s life to make him take that and he’s caught up in this—this—“ He stopped, taking a breath. “He’s convinced he’s terrible. But I don’t think that that means that he  _ is _ . In fact, him feeling so terribly is an indicator that he isn’t evil.” Harry glanced at his friends, but Hermione was clearly thinking about something else. He decided to drop it, focusing instead on Ron. “Do you get me?”   
  
Slowly, Ron nodded. “He started crying when I said he had called Hermione that. Guilt at least means he has a conscience and I’m fairly certain You Know Who doesn’t.”    
  
Harry nudged Draco. “You see what I mean? Even Ron doesn’t think you’re evil. And you and Ron have never gotten along. Take my word for it, Draco. Doing bad things doesn’t always mean you’re bad. Especially if you didn’t want to do them. Besides, people can change and grow. All the arse-holey things you did when you were a young kid? Everyone makes mistakes when they’re that age. You clearly feel bad about it. Anything else more significant that you’ve done? I’m fairly certain you didn’t have that much of a choice in the matter. Remember what I said? That can be who we were and not who we are.”    
  
Draco opened his mouth, seemingly ready to argue, but was cut off as everyone’s attention was drawn away by the sound of the door crashing shut behind Hermione. He looked questioningly at the other two. “What was that all about?”    
  
Ron shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m lucky if I can figure out what mood she’s in half the time.”    
  
“She did have that look in her eye, earlier,” Harry commented.    
  
“Ah,” was all Ron said in response, as if that explained it all.   
  
Draco stared at both of them, hoping one would get the hint and explain, but neither did, so he was forced to ask, “What look?”    
  
Harry rolled his shoulders. “She always gets this look in her eye when she’s figuring something out. It’s really annoying because she doesn’t tell anyone before she runs off; she just shows up with her theories and a mountain of books. You’ll see.”    
  
For a few minutes, the conversation lulled.    
  
“Well,” Harry blew out a sigh. “Who knows when she’ll be back. What should we talk about?”   
  
After a pause, Ron said, “Quidditch?”   
  
“Bloody hell! I’ve missed a cup!” Draco exclaimed. “What happened?!  _ Who won! _ ”    
  
“It was Ireland and Bulgaria in the final game and Bulgaria caught the snitch but Ireland still won!” Ron rushed out, coming over closer to Draco.    
  
“Who caught it?”    
  
“His name is Viktor Krum and he’s amazing but I also hate him because that same year was the triwizard tournament and he was the champion from Durmstrang so he was here and he’s so cool, Malfoy, you would not  _ believe. _ I was so upset quidditch got cancelled that year because of the tournament because otherwise we could have played a game with him!” Ron looked like he was about to swoon. “But, like I said, I also hate him because he’s in love with Hermione and he asked her to the Yule Ball, so. Guess he’s not perfect.”    
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Were you jealous of Krum or Hermione?”    
  
Harry laughed out loud, clapping Ron on the shoulder. “Thank you, Draco!” He said. “I’ve been saying that for years! He always brushes me off and is like, ‘I don’t have a crush on Krum’ but that’s a  _ lie. _ You saw the way he talks about him! Ron,” he turned to face his friend. “Just accept that you have a huge man crush on Viktor Krum and move on.”    
  
“It sounds like you’re just jealous that you were left out,” Draco said.    
  
Again, Harry laughed. Ron began to turn red. “That’s not—“ He protested. “I was still processing my feelings for Hermione and then this man who is just amazing at everything he does swoops in and it was just a little frustrating. I felt very threatened.”    
  
“Mmhmm,” Harry said, nodding. “Or you just have a man crush on Krum.”    
  
“Well, if I did it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for a quidditch player, hm?” Ron smirked.    
  
Now, it was Harry’s turn to blush. “We don’t have to talk about that,” he laughed.    
  
“Actually,” Ron mused, faking. “Wasn’t it the same year?”   
  
Harry continued to laugh. “He was pretty, okay?!”    
  
“‘I can’t believe Cho is going out with  _ Cedric _ ,’” Ron mocked. “‘Why not me?’ Harry, you walked away from every conversation with Cho thinking that it was the worst thing that ever happened to you. You walked away from talking to Cedric and you were glowing. It was a  _ sign. _ ”   
  
“As if that wasn’t the same situation as you and Hermione and Krum,” Harry argued, still laughing.   
  
“Okay, okay!” Ron said. “Maybe I find Krum...nice. But that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him. I was threatened. Same as you were threatened by Cho.”    
  
“I wasn’t threatened by Cho. Just admit you thought Krum was the best thing to happen to the world.”    
  
“He can do a Wronski Feint, Harry!”    
  
“Yeah, okay?” Harry laughed. “So can I, Ron.”    
  
“You can?” Draco cut in.    
  
“Yeah,” Harry said, nonchalant. Draco blinked, trying to process. “I’ll show you sometime,” Harry added.    
  
Ron rolled his eyes. “Just because you can do a Wronski Feint doesn’t make in any less impressive that Krum can.”    
  
Harry looked at Draco, eyebrows raised. “Man crush,” he mouthed, making Draco laugh.    
  
Then, the door burst opened and Hermione walked in, lugging a tower of books which she deposited on the bedside table.    
  
“What you got there, Hermion—“ Ron began.    
  
Hermione stopped him. “You said he remembered?” She asked. “About how he got the mark, you said you remembered?”    
  
All looked towards Draco to answer. “Yes,” he nodded. “It was strange. The memory just came over me. I knew.”    
  
“An obliviate is a powerful spell. You shouldn’t have gaps like that.” Everyone could clearly see that the wheels of Hermione’s brain were turning, excited to solve the puzzle.    
  
“Well, it could have been poorly cast. They brought in a specialist from St. Mungo’s earlier who insisted on using ligilimency to assess the damage and....Let’s just say we learned that I am a rather skilled occlumens and we still have no idea how severe the damage is.”   
  
Even while Draco was still speaking, Hermione was shaking her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t see why she would need to use ligilimency. Also, I don’t know what they’re talking about with it being poorly cast and that affecting whether or not you get your memories back. Lockhart accidentally cast one on himself with a broken wand that wasn’t even his and he’s still in St. Mungo’s and missing most of his memory. This is....This is....” Hermione trailed off, moving over to   
her stack of books and flipping through them.    
  
Her eyes jumped back to Draco’s. “Let me ask you this: close your eyes.” Draco did as he was told. “Do you feel eleven years old?” Draco shook his head. “Do you feel sixteen years old?” At this, Draco was unsure, so he opened his eyes.    
  
“I’m not sure. I don’t feel sixteen but I don’t...not feel sixteen if you can piece together my meaning.”    
  
“Close your eyes again.” Again, Draco did as he was told. “Please answer these questions without thinking about them. Have you ever been to Hogwarts?”    
  
Draco’s response was immediate, as Hermione had asked. “Yes.”   
  
“Have you ever sat in the Great Hall?”   
  
“Yes.”    
  
“Have you ever been inside the Slytherin dorms?”   
  
“Yes.”    
  
“Have you ever been fifteen?”   
  
“Yes.” At this one, Draco’s eyes flew open. “How do I know all that? It’s so strange. It’s like I have the instinctive answer to what you told me, but I just don’t remember it.”    
  
“But you can  _ feel _ it?” Hermione questioned.    
  
“ _ Yes, _ ” Draco emphasized.    
  
“Well, that’s it,” Hermione said, triumphant. “It’s amnesia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Ron about Krum ](https://frinkiac.com/gif/S05E19/91791/93659/SSBKVVNUIFRISU5LIApUSEVZJ1JFIE5FQVQu)
> 
> anyway things needed to be said in this chapter so uhhhh,,,,, i love ron. love that boy. 
> 
> hmm seems hermione may be?? onto something??


	5. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i apologize for how quickly they flip moods but lets be real i mean it's these two lol
> 
> TW PLEASE READ::: they talk about depression a lot and harry may be like borderline suicidal not like actively but draco may be actively suicidal like listen just know that it is a sensitive topic that this fic def covers

There was a small pause in the room before Ron spoke. "Uhh, 'Mione....Hate to burst your bubble or anything but we kind of already knew that it's amnesia. He clearly has memory loss from the obliviate and--" 

" _ No, _ Ron. He has amnesia. Like, muggle amnesia. From head trauma. Because of the obliviate they must not have even thought about head trauma being a possibility. But it makes sense. The obliviate was poorly cast so there is no way that it took that much of his memory. Amnesia from spells acts very different from amnesia as a result of head trauma. For example, head trauma amnesia may often appear 'spotty' or be triggered by certain sights, smells, or something similar that tied to a particular memory.  _ And _ , it can come back." 

Listening to what Hermione said made them all pause. 

Draco, in particular, didn't know how to react to the information. "Do you meant to tell me that I may get these memories back?"

"Well," Hermione began, speaking in the tone that Harry and Ron both knew meant that she wasn't one hundred percent sure, but that she wouldn't stop researching until she was. "I can't make any broad statements because I am not a head trauma professional and we don't know how the obliviate interacted with the head trauma or even if it did at all. We don't know to what extent is what."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but you have a hypothesis, don't you?"

"Oh, don't be modest, Ron," Harry said. "She always has a hypothesis. She just doesn't always want to share it with us." 

"Well,  _ fine, _ " Hermione insisted. "Since you all insist on being rude about it, I do have a hypothesis."

After a pause, Draco asked, "So what is it?"

"You seem like you have no memories from the last year or so, but that everything before that seems spotty. That could be an interaction of the obliviate and the head trauma amnesia. But, I would just like to say again that I don't know the extent to which these two are interacting, if at all. Please, Draco, do not take my word for it. I don't want you getting your hopes up. Even if it is amnesia, it may be come-and-go for the rest of your life, or you may end up with all of it back, or no more than you have now. I really have no way of telling. I'm sorry." 

At this news, Draco realized that he had already been getting his hopes up. For what, he couldn't exactly be sure. It wasn't like he actually wanted to remember because that would mean acknowledging all that he had done in his life. 

But, still. It felt like missing a limb. 

The room was silent for a bit, each person trying to work out in their own mind how they felt about what Hermione said. In the quiet, Draco began fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, wondering if the possibility of him getting his memories back would change things between him and Harry. 

Maybe Draco would remember something that would change the way he felt about the man. Or maybe Harry was worried that Draco would remember something and that fear would change the way Harry felt about him and this would all end before it could even begin. 

Draco blinked harshly, refusing to allow himself to spiral down that line of thinking. It could be dangerous. 

But when he snuck a glance at Harry, who was deep in his own thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder....

Then, Harry looked up. "Why don't we make a timeline?" He asked. "We can try and piece together when things happened, fill in the gaps. Maybe going over some things would help Draco remember." 

Ron didn't look too interested in participating in that and Draco wasn't quite sure he blamed him. Hermione was already flipping through another book. 

"I think I'm going to continue to research this a little further," she said. "It would be very helpful if I was able to get access to some muggle medical materials on the matter." She straightened, closing the book she was reading. "But, for now, I have a charms essay to finish. So do you two, I would imagine." She looked pointedly at Harry and Ron. 

"Ah, shit," Ron cursed, quickly moving to follow Hermione out of the room. At the doorway, they lingered, both glancing back to Harry. 

"Um." Harry looked around awkwardly like he was trying to find an excuse to stay. "You two go on ahead. I already did the charms essay." 

"Yes," Hermione said. "In lieu of the potions assignment. Remember to get that done, too." 

Harry shrugged her warning off. He had the book with all the potions secrets; he could get it done quick and spend more time now with Draco. 

Without trying to convince him any further, Harry watched his two best friends leave, awkwardness settling in as he and Draco were left along in the room. 

"You didn't have to do that," Draco said. "You can go. You have things to do. I understand."

Harry crashed into the chair next to where Draco was. "Yeah, well, I don't want to do it." 

"That's just because potions is your least favorite subject," Draco countered. 

"Yeah, but like. Like, I can do it," Harry said, wondering if this was going to lead him to reveal the secret about his potions textbook this year. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. "For some reason, I get the feeling that that is just not true. Just because I don't remember doesn't mean I can't get a really good feeling that you are terrible at potions."

At this, Harry laughed a little bit.

"What?" Draco asked.

"Nothing. I just remembered this time last year when I was working with Snape on occlumency and we were using me being in remedial potions as a cover and you found out and you were so scandalized and you were like, 'reMediAL PoTiONs.'" 

Draco paused, clearly catching something Harry had glossed over. "What do you mean you studied occlumency with Snape last year?"

"Oh, shit," Harry said, eyes widening. "I wasn't supposed to tell people about that. Oh, shit." He began laughing. "Whatever, what do I care? Dumbledore keeps telling me about all these things regarding the war and all and telling me to be so secret with them or I might die but, at this point? Do I even care if I die? Not really. Like I don't understand why we're using so much caution when I have a near-death experience at  _ least _ every year. One of these days it's really gonna get me, you know what I mean? Well, anyway." 

For a moment, Draco just sat and blinked, not sure quite how to process what he just heard. And Harry had just said it all like it was  _ nothing. _

"Harry," he began tentatively. "Are you okay?" 

"Huh? What do you mean?" 

"I mean, are you alright? Like, emotionally?" 

"Oh, come on," Harry laughed. "I'm not going to complain about that kind of stuff to you. I'm sure you've been through worse. I mean, for Merlin's sake, you  _ lived _ in the same house as Volde--" Harry stopped at Draco's sharp intake of breath. "Right, sorry." 

"It's fine," Draco said, waving it off. "Let's go back to this for a moment because you're sounding a tad depressed here." 

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not depressed. I've just...I've got a lot going on right now and things seem pretty dismal and all, you know?"

Draco hesitated before asking his next question. "Harry," he said, softly. "How much death have you seen?"

At this, Harry's mouth opened slightly and something in his eyes changed. "Not a ton," he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. In response, Draco simply raised an eyebrow. "Okay, well, outside of my parents, there was Cedric at the end of fourth year and then...um." Harry paused, shifting and clearing his throat. "Um, at the end of last year, uh, my godfather, uh--"

After a moment of silence, Harry sniffed and glanced up at Draco. "Sorry," he said. 

Instead of saying anything, Draco reached out a tentative hand. He was surprised when Harry took it. 

"You don't need to compare your trauma to anyone else's. Harry, we are in the middle of war. Sixteen year olds shouldn't have to deal with this." 

Harry gave a small nod, still quiet. 

"If you ever want to talk, I'm here," Draco offered. 

"Thanks," Harry whispered. "It's just...it's hard sometimes, you know? Like, I feel like there's so much pressure on me, specifically."

"Well, you are  _ Harry Potter, _ the Boy Who Lived," Draco said, somewhat sarcastically. 

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "Almost forgot about that one. Oh, hey. Here's one you haven't heard. I'm also the Chosen One, I'll have you know." 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, at least it sounds like it isn't going to your head any."

When Harry laughed, Draco felt his heart sing in response, a goofy smile breaking out on his face. Harry's laugh was something he always wanted to hear. 

Calming down, Harry glanced over at Draco, something thoughtful behind his eyes. 

"What?" Draco asked. 

For a moment, Harry looked caught off guard, like he hadn't thought his face was giving anything away. He cleared his throat. "It's nothing."

Worry began to creep up inside of Draco. "If it's nothing, then why don't you tell me?" He asked, his quiet. What if Harry had been thinking about their past? Remembering the way that he had always hated Draco?

To make matters worse, Harry began to blush, clearly indicating to Draco that whatever he had been thinking was something that he didn't want to say aloud. Naturally, Draco was led to the conclusion that he was embarrassed for having thought something so mean. 

"It's just, um. It's just not--It doesn't matter." 

Draco gave a sharp nod, pulling his hand away from Harry's. He understood. 

Even now, Draco could see that there was just no helping himself when it came to Harry Potter. Something he was sure he had already learned far too well. And maybe this entire...friendship that was starting with Harry now wasn't a good idea. 

Especially if Hermione was right and Draco got his memory back. 

There would be no denying their past then. 

It seemed to Draco like he and Harry were existing within a bubble that the hospital wing gave them. They had only been outside of it once--and no one had seen them. What would things be like when Draco was officially released from the hospital wing? Would Harry avoid him? Or, worse, would he openly go back to the way things were before to save face. 

Being secret friends with Harry Potter was just looking to be too much to bear for him. He couldn't even stand these times alone with him, knowing that every time Harry looked at him there was some resentment lingering under the surface, something he would never be able to get over. 

You don't just forget someone breaking your nose. 

Although, Draco supposed he had forgotten quite a lot of what Harry Potter apparently did to him as well. 

That, of course, worried him almost even more. What if he began getting his memory back and he realized that  _ he _ actually hated Harry Potter for all that he had done? Maybe that was why Harry was so quick to jump onto the idea of moving on from their past, because his wasn't as blemish-free as everyone thought it was. 

Or, that was just Draco's imagination running. His forearm, visible in his peripheral vision, reminded him of that, even when covered.

"Hey," Harry said, reaching out and touching Draco's arm softly to get his attention back. "I didn't mean it like...." He trailed off, not sure what to say. 

Draco bit back a retort of, 'I know exactly how you meant it.' 

"Fine," Harry said, instead. "Look, if you want to get all offended about it, go ahead."

Now, Draco's head snapped back towards Harry. "Excuse me?" 

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's what you were doing. You have no idea what I could have been thinking about and you jumped to conclusions and got all offended, didn't you?"

Draco gave Harry an incredulous look. "How dare you? You say something so cryptic after looking at me like that and I'm supposed to think that it  _ wasn't _ you reminiscing about all the times we hated each other and all of the ways that we have hurt each other? What was I supposed to think, Harry?"

"I don't know, maybe give me the benefit of the doubt?"

"Why would I do that?"

Harry sat up, spreading his arms out. "Because we're supposed to be giving each other a second chance!"  

"Yeah, well, you seem to be forgetting that it feels a lot more like a first chance for me." 

That shut Harry up, Draco noted. 

Cautiously, he continued. "Every time you look at me, I wonder what you could be thinking. What you could be remembering. And I don't have a lot of past experiences between the two of us to go off of, so I naturally assume that you must be thinking about some time where something bad happened. As far as I even know, that is the extent of our interactions." 

After a pause in which Harry sat, thoughtful, he looked up and said, "You're right." 

Draco blinked. "Yes. I am." 

"Well, not  _ all _ of our interactions were bad." Harry shifted, coming a tad closer to Draco. "Like when we met." 

"I thought Ron said I insulted his family and--"

"No. The first time we met." 

Draco gave Harry a curious look, indicating that he continue, so Harry took a deep breath. 

"It was my first time in Diagon Alley, right before school was set to start. Hagrid took me to get all of my school things and we stopped in at Madam Malkins to get some robes and there was a young boy with platinum-blonde hair standing up there, having some robes done. And you looked at me, and the first words you ever said to me 'Hogwarts, too?' It was the first time I had ever talked to someone else going to this fancy, magic, wizard school. That was the first time we met." Harry shrugged and said jokingly, "Maybe I was thinking of that."

But Draco didn't laugh. "You don't have to keep trying to make me feel good with all these stories and things. I know that I am not a good person. The past can't be changed." 

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are we back on this again? Draco, it's not like you even know--"

"What I did? Do I need to? And even if I learn my own motivations, would that even make a difference?" He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"So, what, you think you're just so irredeemable? Do you think everyone is irredeemable? That suddenly one bad thing makes someone beyond any good?"

Instead of matching Harry in escalation, Draco remained quiet. "It's like I can feel it inside of me. I know that I have done bad things. No matter what anyone else says, no matter how many times someone else forgives me, I still have this feeling inside of me like I swallowed something ugly." 

Harry shrugged. “That doesn’t mean others  _ can’t _ forgive you. It just means you can’t forgive yourself, which is something else entirely.”

Draco just stared at his arm. “You don’t understand. You’re Harry Potter. No matter what you do, the world will love you. No matter what I do, the world will only see this.”

“Well, fuck the world, Draco!” Harry yelled. “Who gives a shit about them? Look,” He moved his chair closer to Draco, laying a hand on his forearm where Draco had been staring. “I told you that we would help you. And I can keep my promises. I will do everything in my power to help you. Do you know why I would do that, Draco?” 

Draco gave a small shake of his head. Now that Harry mentioned it, he couldn’t think of a single reason.

“Because I know you’re better than this. I know you’re good.” 

Trying to downplay the situation as well as his emotions, Draco joked, “At least that makes one of us.” 

“I’m serious, Draco.” 

With a sad laugh, Draco said, “I am, too.” 

Harry sat back. “How about tomorrow we go to Dumbledore and talk to him about the situation? I’m sure he can help somehow.” 

“Why would he care?” 

Now, Harry was starting to get frustrated and he blew out a sigh. “Are you really saying that I’m the one sounding depressed?” 

“You’re the one talking about not caring whether you live or die!” 

“Okay, fine.” Harry let his hands fall into his lap. “I’ll try to start caring about my life if you start accepting that other people care about yours. Is that a deal?” Harry laughed a little bit at the end at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“Sure,” Draco relented. He laughed, brushing his hair back with his hand. “We’re both a mess, aren’t we?”

Harry cracked a smile. “Probably more than we even know. But, hey, we apparently have each other to keep us in check, right?”

“Oh, great good that’ll do. Because the two of us are just so stable.” 

At this, they both began to laugh, the mood lightening, but then they were interrupted by a small sound at the window. Harry, being closer, stood and walked over to it, cracking it open just a small amount. The window burst open, a frenzied owl shoving its way into the hospital wing and directly to Draco. 

Confused, Draco took the letter from it. It only took until the moment his eyes landed on the name that he was able to place it. 

Looking up, Draco met Harry's questioning eyes. 

"It's from my father."   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally am cringing so hard that i did the tEXt LiKE tHiS but whatever yk live your life and please don't hate me for it lmfao
> 
> if i have them say things that they already said but they say them as if its new info to draco i promise i just really have no idea whats going on okay its fine 
> 
> also i don't have my copy of sorcerers stone so if the quote isn't perfect (although i doubt that i don't have it memorized) then thats why bc i couldn't look it up 
> 
> ................i hate this chapter (but it’s like setup for later chapters and i hope y’all still like it and that if you don’t you don’t abandon this fic just bc of this one chapter tx luv u bye)


	6. Letter

After a moment of frozen silence, Harry quietly asked, “Are you going to read it?”   
  
Draco simply sat where he was, staring down at the small scroll that was tied together. "I don't know," he said. "It's taken him this long to contact me; I wonder what he has to say. Why didn't he write me sooner?" He looked up, meeting Harry's eyes. "Knowing my father, I'm surprised multiple people haven't already been fired."   
  
At that, Draco noticed Harry laughing a little. "Honestly, I'm as surprised as you. You got scratched in third year—remember we mentioned the hippogriff—and multiple people came very close to losing their jobs, including Hagrid."   
  
"I don't know who Hagrid is," was all Draco said.   
  
"Shit," Harry remarked. "I keep forgetting how much you don't remember. Sorry."   
  
Draco shrugged. "Well, according to Hermione, I may end up getting some of it back."   
  
"I think she wants to sneak you in to a muggle hospital and get your brain scanned or something," Harry laughed.   
  
"Get my brain scanned? How would they do that?"   
  
Waving his hand, Harry said, "Not important right now." He gestured towards the letter. "There are more pertinent things."   
  
Blowing out a sigh, Draco looked back at the letter. For a moment there, he had almost forgotten about it, despite it being in his hands. It had been nice. He kind of wished he could just forget it entirely, pretend it never happened. Because what if what was in this letter changed his interactions with Harry. It was the only thing in his life that seemed to be going right.   
  
The only thing that was keeping Draco stable through all of this mess.   
  
Taking a deep breath, he took hold of the end of the string, ready to unravel it. But he couldn't bring himself to pull. Instead, he looked back at Harry, exhaling a nervous laugh.   
  
"Can we talk about something else? Just...to get my mind off things for a bit?"  
  
Luckily, Harry took the hint and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, sure. What do you want to talk about?"   
  
"Anything, Harry," Draco said, a little desperate.   
  
"Right, right." Harry paused, trying to think of something to say. But as the silence continued to stretch, anxiety continued to build in Draco. It was like Harry couldn't think of anything. They had absolutely no common ground.   
  
"It's just strange," Harry said. "Like, I could talk to you about all of these things but you don't remember any of them." He made a face, tugging down one corner of his lips. Draco wanted to wipe it away. "All of our inside jokes are just...gone."   
  
"I thought we were enemies," Draco commented. "Enemies don't have inside jokes."   
  
"Well, yeah. But we kind of did, I guess." A smile then crossed Harry's face as he seemed to remember something. "Like if you were to say 'Scared, Potter?' I would say—“  
  
"You wish," Draco cut off, instinctively.   
  
Harry sat back, blinking, his eyebrows raised high on his face. "You remembered that?"   
  
Looking up at the ceiling as if it held the answers he was looking for, Draco tried to think. "I don't know. The answer just came to me. But it's like—for the life of me—I can't figure out where exactly it came _from._ I just know that it was there."   
  
"That's so weird. What else do you remember?"   
  
Draco gave Harry a flat look. "Did you not listen to a word I just said? That memory was _prompted._ I can't just know it out of nowhere."   
  
Now, Harry looked at Draco with slightly narrowed eyes, like he was considering something. "You know, I'm aware that you technically don't really have memories since you were eleven, but I've got to say that you sound much more like current-Draco than you do eleven-year-old-Draco."   
  
"What do you mean?" Draco asked.   
  
"Well, it's just." Harry shrugged. "When we were kids, you were very 'I'm telling my father' about everything. Kinda...whiny. Kinda bitchy, if I'm being honest." Harry laughed, "Don't give me that look! Anyway, as you grew up, you were still annoying and entitled and all, but it became more...sophisticated? I guess? Less childlike? I don't know. You just feel more like how I know you now, rather than how I knew you when we were kids."   
  
"Maybe that's in relation to Hermione's theory," Draco guessed.   
  
"Yeah, maybe," Harry said.   
  
The conversation lulled a moment and Draco glanced back down to the letter in his hands.   
  
With a deep breath, he decided he didn't want to deal with it right at that moment, and he set it aside, lying it carefully on the table next to him to be dealt with later.   
  
Sheepishly, he glanced back to Harry. "Don't judge me," he said. "I just don't want to deal with it right now."   
  
Harry lifted his hands up, palms turned out. "Hey, I'm not judging. I wouldn't want to deal with you dad, either. But you just have to remember that you can't avoid it forever, you know. You're going to have to actually read it at some point. Doesn't mean that has to be now, but it doesn't necessarily mean that you're just allowed to wait until you feel completely comfortable with it because you probably never will."   
  
Draco didn't respond. He knew Harry was right. He would have to own up and read it at some point, probably even respond. But it could wait. Right now, he just wanted one more night with Harry, in the calm, like this.   
  
Settling back against the pillows, he looked at Harry for a moment. Looking a little uncomfortable at being stared at, Harry gave him a weird smile and, like the first breeze of summer, Draco was hit with a memory.   
  
_It was winter. Draco couldn't pin down the exact date or month, but it seemed to be around last year. Fifth year. That seemed accurate._ _  
_ _  
_ _He was sitting in the Great Hall, alone. As it was late night, no one ever came to sit at the long, empty tables and Draco had found over the years that the Great Hall was the perfect place to study or just to sit when he wanted to be alone. So he was sitting at Slytherin table, nestled at the far, dark corner with his textbooks and a cup of tea when one of the doors opened on the other end and a cold breeze flooded in._ _  
_ _  
_ _A few Gryffindor boys walked in, making an obnoxious amount of noise and Draco rolled his eyes, not able to tell who it was past the knitted caps and the scarves. But then, one of the boys began unravelling his scarf and he let out a loud, "Woo!" Draco knew immediately that it was Harry._ _  
_ _  
_ _Pausing, he let his quill dangle in the air above his parchment. The group likely couldn't see him from where he was and Draco was fine with that. It was a dark corner; he didn't want to be seen._ _  
_ _  
_ _They all jostled together, laughing at the fun they had been having. One by one, the plopped down on the bench closest, all slowly peeling off their caps and scarves, shaking out the snow as they did. Their laughter carried throughout the hall, beautiful music as the background to Draco's arithmancy homework._ _  
_ _  
_ _Harry's voice carried above all._ _  
_ _  
_ _The group were talking about whatever they had just done and most of what they said was practically incoherent. After sitting for a while and getting warm, however, Dean Thomas—who Draco just now noticed was in the group—stood up._ _  
_ _  
_ _"We should head back on upstairs," he said. "Filch might catch us in here and I don't really want to have detention with him right before the next Quidditch match."_ _  
_ _  
_ _The rest of the boys hummed their assent, all standing up and beginning to follow, headed towards the large doors at the front of the hall._ _  
_ _  
_ _Which meant they would have to walk right past the dark corner in which Draco was studying._ _  
_ _  
_ _He may have been less visible, but his textbooks were spread everywhere. Worried about their reaction but not wanting to draw attention to himself, Draco simply shrunk back within the shadow, hoping that they were having too much fun with their jokes and retellings of the night’s events to notice._ _  
_ _  
_ _As they walked past, it seemed that Draco's hopes were being fulfilled, leaving him sitting peacefully. He let out a breath, as they were fully past him now, Harry the last one, trailing behind the group._ _  
_ _  
_ _But right before he walked out the door, Harry turned back towards where Draco was, in the corner. He lifted a hand in greeting and gave an immensely awkward smile._   
  
Back in the present now, Draco gave a harsh blink. When he opened his eyes, Harry was standing in front of him, giving him a questioning look.   
  
"Did you just remember something?" He asked.   
  
Surprisingly, Draco found himself unsure if he wanted to talk about it. It was such an intimate memory, one that felt like would be ruined if they ever spoke about it out loud. Because that was back when they were still supposed to be enemies. That was before they had reconciled.   
  
So why had Harry done that?   
  
Did he regret it? Did he only do it because he felt awkward? Was it a jab to say 'ha, saw you'?   
  
It felt...intimate. And Draco didn't want to spoil that.   
  
It was then that he really understood what was happening right at that moment. The two of them, sitting on the same bed in the empty hospital wing, was far more intimate than that awkward wave had been.   
  
The two had been sitting here and enjoying nothing but each other's presence for days.   
  
It was nighttime. And they were alone. In the hospital wing.   
  
All this space and Harry was less than an arm's length from him.   
  
In that moment, Draco understood a little bit about what Harry had been saying earlier about him not being like his younger self. He was _sure_ his younger self had never had these feelings before and while he had no explicit memory of them, he knew that his attraction to Harry Potter was by far nothing new.   
  
Still, it felt strange not having the memories of the last five and a half years of his life and having these feelings.   
  
Harry was still looking at him, concerned and questioning, still waiting on an answer to his question. But all Draco could focus on was the small expanse of air between them. It was like he could feel Harry's breath. The more he thought about it, the more a heat began to spread underneath his skin.   
  
It really threw things off, not having his memories. Because if he was eleven, this would be foreign and new and... _weird._ But it wasn't. It felt natural. Natural like it should to a sixteen-year-old boy.   
  
He knew without a doubt in his mind that he wanted to kiss Harry. Knew he had fantasized about that and much more thousands of times when he was alone at night. In fact, he had probably pictured a scenario similar to the one he was facing now: Harry, sitting on his bed, so close to him, late at night, nothing but silence and tension between them.   
  
"Draco, are you okay?" Harry asked.   
  
Shaking his head slightly, Draco snapped out of it, shame like ice running across his skin. It wasn't like he was going to admit to that for one second. He could not tell Harry _any_ of what was just running through his mind.   
  
"I'm fine," he answered. "Sorry. I did have a memory. It was of us in the Great Hall, late one night. You had been out and in the snow with your friends and I was studying in the corner. You were the only one who saw me."   
  
"I wonder what triggered it."   
  
"You gave me the same smile when you waved just before you closed the door behind you. The incredibly weird one. That must have triggered it."   
  
Thinking on it for a moment, Harry shifted and it brought him further from Draco. It was like he could breathe a sigh of relief and hide his feelings better after Harry moved.   
  
"Draco," Harry began. "I really think we need to start constructing a timeline. Because I think that's the most recent memory you've had."   
  
"We can't be sure. We don't know when I got this," Draco gestured vaguely towards his arm.   
  
"Right," Harry said. "But we can't know that. So we just have to go off of ones that we know for sure when they happened and that memory was last March. We were sure it was going to stop snowing soon and we wanted to take advantage of it while we still could, you know? So the most recent confirmed memory was last March."   
  
"Okay," Draco said. "So that was a little less than a year ago."   
  
"Correct," Harry said.   
  
They both remained where they were for a moment, each individually wondering what conclusions could be made from that piece of information. In truth, neither knew the significance of this and both secretly wished Hermione were there to have a revelation and explain everything.   
  
"Do you think I'll get my memories back?" Draco asked.   
  
A moment passed before Harry said, "Probably. I mean, you are getting them back already so I would say there's a good chance that, yeah, sure."   
  
Draco stared down at his hands. "Every time I have another flashback, I wonder if it's going to be the last one I ever have. And it's terrifying. I know I keep saying the same thing again and again, but I just feel like I don't know who I am and I can't even focus on anything else."  
  
Harry turned, facing Draco. "Do you need to know your memories in order to know who you are, though?"   
  
"How could you say that?" Draco asked. "I don't know the things that I have done. Therefore, I don't know who I have become."   
  
"Yes, I know." Harry placed a hand on top of Draco's. "But does that matter? No matter what you have done the rest of your life, if you don't like it, why does that have to define you now?"  
  
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "I have a moral responsibility for my actions, Harry."   
  
"I didn't say you don't. I just—“ He sighed, squeezing Draco's hand. When he did, a small chill ran up Draco's spine and he tried to cover up that he had reacted. "My point is that you don't have to stay that person so it doesn't matter who you were. That's what I keep telling you, Draco. You don't have to be that person if you don't want to be."  
  
Slowly, Draco pulled his hand out of Harry's grip. "I know what you mean, Harry. It's just not that simple."  
  
"It is," Harry said.   
  
"Harry," Draco said, voice soft. "It's easy to say things like that when it's just us in here. But, since this has all happened, I haven't interacted with the world at large. Do you really think you could say that same thing if I walked into the Great Hall, in front of everyone?" Draco shook his head. "It doesn't work like that."   
  
Silence settled between them as Harry thought, his hands now back in his own lap. Draco watched his face as he processed, the ways the corners of his lips twitched and his eyebrows moved together. Then, he shook his head sharply. "Well, it shouldn't be. It shouldn't have to be like that."   
  
Draco understood his frustration. "It's okay," he soothed. Then, he put on a happy voice. "Why don't we talk about something else?"   
  
Now, Harry looked back to Draco, his eyes serious. "Draco. We both know that you're just trying to distract yourself from opening that letter. But, like I said, you're going to have to deal with it at some point. Maybe it's just better to rip the bandaid off, yeah?"   
  
For a moment, Draco blinked at Harry. "What does that mean? What is a 'band aid?'"   
  
Harry waved a hand. "Not important. It's a saying that basically means it's better to just get it over with, even if the pain may be a little more, rather than dragging out a little less pain over a long period of time." He paused. "Just something for you to consider."   
  
He was right. Draco knew he was right. Even if his father had taken this long to get a letter to him, that didn't mean he would accept Draco taking a long time to respond.   
  
Unable to push it off any longer, Draco reached over to the side table and picked up the scroll once more. He grabbed the tip of the string again, hesitating as he met Harry's eyes. In turn, Harry nodded at him, encouraging, and Draco pulled.   
  
At first, it was like his eyes didn't want to focus because he was so afraid of what his father would have to say. But then he decided that he had to just do it: it was the best way.  
  
He scanned through his father's writing quickly; there wasn't much of it. In fact, Lucius didn't seem to angry about the entire event. His point, however, was clear.   
  
Letting the parchment and his hands fall onto his lap, Draco stared into the distance for a moment. He didn't know how this would change things. Of course, he didn't __want to do as his father said, but he also couldn't find a way out of it.   
  
But everything was going to have to change.   
  
"Draco?" Harry asked, tentatively. "What is it?"  
  
Closing his eyes, Draco sighed. Then, he turned the parchment so Harry could see it, watching as Harry immediately bent down and began reading.   
  
"He wants me to come home," Draco said. "He'll be here tomorrow to take me back to the Manor."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro ima level w y'all: I live in the desert and have NO IDEA how seasons work. i don't know when it stops snowing, when it starts snowing. idk man. roll w it. 
> 
> lol my philosophy class is talking about personal identity and what makes us us and like different theories about identity and i feel like i am HELLA projecting onto this fic lmaooooo 
> 
> sometimes i feel like i can write in circles with this fic but as you can see by the ending of this chapter, we're really gonna get moving soon and therefore we will have something to talk about that is NOT draco's existential crises.


	7. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is fanfiction, I can fuck with canon however I want. But, I don’t want to give away what I do in this chapter so if you’re having timeline questions, I’ll answer them next chapter when all is revealed.

Harry was still in the middle of reading the letter when Draco spoke and his head jerked up sharply. " _ What? _ " He said.    
  
Draco shrugged. "Read for yourself." He gestured towards the parchment and Harry's head bent back down again, finishing reading what Lucius had written.    
  
"He's coming tomorrow morning," Harry said, his voice flat.    
  
In response, Draco simply nodded.    
  
"We'll figure something out," Harry promised. "I won't let him take you."   
  
Turning, Draco gave Harry a sharp look. "He's my father; he's not going to hurt me or anything."    
  
"Are you forgetting that the Manor is Death Eater HQ?"    
  
"I can handle myself. I've handled myself there before, haven't I? Memory or not," Draco crossed his arms. "I know what I'm doing. There are certain things that you just have to do." Subconsciously, his chin lifted. "That's the way I was raised."   
  
"You don't have to do  _ this _ , Draco," Harry pleaded.    
  
"I can't just disobey my father."    
  
Harry hesitated for a second. "You could...disappear, though."    
  
For a moment, Draco tried to pretend that he didn't hear what he so clearly just heard. "What are you saying, Harry?"    
  
"We can hide you in the room of requirement, I can call the Order, Dumbledore must be able to do something! I'm sure Molly Weasley would agree to help in a minute." Harry lunged forward, movements desperate, frantic, and he took hold of Draco's hands. " _ We can figure something out. _ I can't just let you go. I can't just let him take you."    
  
When Draco responded, his voice was quiet in the empty hospital wing. "I don't think you have much choice, Harry."    
  
Abruptly, Harry stood up. "That's what everyone has been telling me for years! I understand that this is war and everything but everyone seems to be using it as an excuse to just not do anything! We're supposed to just wait and see how things play out and not intervene. But it's war and that's exactly  _ why _ we have to intervene! I can't let you go back there, Draco. I just can't."    
  
At Harry's outburst, Draco began to get angry. This was, after all, his family. Surely he would be safe with them? His mother would be there to protect him. "You have no idea what is going to happen, Harry." Watching Harry pace around was making Draco anxious and so he stood up as well, crossing his arms as bitterness began to grow in him. "There's probably a reason why everyone keeps telling you to wait. If you jump in now without thinking about things, you could make a mistake. If we don't know how bad this would even be, then why are we making such a fuss out of it?"    
  
Harry shot him a scathing glare. "And what if it kills you? Just because we weren't sure what would happen. What then?"    
  
"You don't get to make this decision for me, Harry."    
  
"Apparently you don't get to make it, either."    
  
Draco's eyebrows raised. "You think I ever get to make any decisions? When it comes to my father, I do what I am told. I'm going."    
  
"So what?" Harry asked, his arms thrown out to the sides quickly before they dropped down, clearly upset. "You're just going to give up?"    
  
"It's not giving up and I don't appreciate you thinking that you get to run my life."    
  
"You know," Harry said, lips pressing together quickly in a way that was barely containing his anger. "Usually when someone says that it's because they are upset that someone else is trying to control their life. But your father is controlling your life and you don't seem to have a problem with that, do you?"    
  
Draco shook his head lightly. "You are so stupid."    
  
Eyes wide, Harry took a step back, almost feeling the words physically. "Sorry?"    
  
"Think for a moment, Harry. I suffered a brain injury and so my father is coming to take me home. If I suddenly put up a fight, how would that look? For all I know, there is nothing at my home that would prove any threat. This course of action is expected, yes? But me fighting against what he says--especially from the supposed mind of my eleven year old self--just doesn't make any sense. And we have clearly seen that I have experienced ligilimency. What if my father has that ability and he looks into my mind and finds out about all of this? That is what would put me in danger, Harry. Being suspicious would put me in danger. Don't you see that?"    
  
As Draco spoke, he could tell that Harry sensed some truth in his words but still didn't like it. He folded his arms across his chest. "I'm getting Hermione and Ron."    
  
"Excuse you?" Draco asked.    
  
"I just--" Harry ran both hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do."    
  
"I thought we already determined that you aren't going to do anything."    
  
Harry crossed the room back to Draco, his hands coming up to Draco's shoulders. "I can't just let...."    
  
Draco stared into his eyes. "You can, Harry. You have to."    
  
Stepping back, Harry once again ran his hands through his hair. "We were just starting to get on, though."    
  
Draco shrugged. "It's war. There are things you have to do."    
  
"What if I never see you again?"    
  
That made Draco stop. "Harry, what would make you think that?"    
  
Looking deflated, Harry walked back over and sat down on the edge of the bed Draco was leaning against. "I think that every time my friends leave a room these days. What if that's the last time? We could all die at any moment and I would never get to say goodbye." He stared down at his hands. "Just like Sirius did. He fell and then he was gone forever." Now, he looked back up at Draco. "That's why I can't let you go."    
  
Understanding, Draco sat down next to Harry. "Well, what other option do you have, exactly?"   
  
"I'll go to Dumbledore," Harry rushed out.    
  
"You really think he would help me?"   
  
Harry blinked. "Dumbledore helps everyone."    
  
At this, Draco had to suppress a laugh. "You and I have very different perceptions of the old man. I don't want to work with him; I don't want to owe him anything."    
  
"What are you talking about?"    
  
Draco shook his head, indicating that now wasn't the time. "Harry, there are just no good alternatives."   
  
Defiant, Harry stood again. "I don't agree. I'm going to go and get Hermione and Ron."    
  
Knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop him, Draco let Harry go, watching the door shut behind him. Despite knowing that Hermione would likely agree with Draco--he was the logical one here, after all--he couldn't shake the feeling that Harry would do whatever it would take to keep Draco leaving with his father in the morning.    
  
He just didn't see any other option.    
  
Unsure if Harry would forgive him for going behind his back like this, Draco bent down anyway, searching around until he found his schoolbag that had been brought in with him. Opening it up, he dug through it, wondering if there was anything useful inside. It was empty besides textbooks. He debated leaving it but eventually decided against it.    
  
After checking to make sure that his argument with Harry hadn't garnered the attention of Madam Pomfrey, Draco picked up the pack and crossed the room to the door of the hospital wing and slipped out.    
  
__________   
  
In a matter of minutes he was exiting the dorms, softly closing behind him the door. Draco knew he was going to have to move fast because Harry would soon be back at the hospital wing, see that Draco was gone, and pull out that fancy map of his. There were places that didn't show up on the map and Draco intended to spend his time in the Room of Requirement until morning when his father arrived. It would be too late for Harry then. But first, he stopped off at the kitchens.    
  
He expected Harry knew that he was in the Room of Requirement, probably standing outside and waiting for him. When Draco paced in front of the wall three times, the door appeared and he slipped in, aware that Harry was likely close behind.    
  
The room he was given had a single chair with a small table in front of it. A few books were stacked on the table and a large clock was on the wall. Other than that, the room was bare.    
  
Draco took a seat in the single chair, crossing his legs on the cushion, and pulled out the food that the house elves in the kitchens had given him. He would sit here until the morning.    
  
__________   
  
Harry ran through the castle, map bouncing in front of him so much that he couldn't see it. He didn't need to, anyway; Draco was heading to the Room of Requirement. All Harry had to do was catch him.    
  
The second he had opened the door to the hospital wing, Harry knew he never should have left. He had been delusional to think that he was going to convince Draco to not go. But, then again, he never thought Draco would do something this drastic.    
  
He sprinted down the corridor, taking a corner so fast he almost winded up on his side. Once he regained his control, he saw the door appearing in the wall, Draco standing in front of it. Just as Harry practically flew down the corridor the door shut, just out of Harry's reach.    
  
The handle vanished moments before Harry's hand slapped the wall where it was. He groaned in frustration, his head coming to rest on the wall.    
  
What was Draco thinking? They could have solved this some other way: there were other options than him going with Lucius.    
  
Turning, Harry sank down to sit with his back against the wall that would have been next to the door. He couldn't rid himself of terrible visions of Draco dying. Voldemort himself was likely at that house and Draco would be taken there tomorrow morning. Harry was helpless to stop it.    
  
He had been sitting for a few minutes by the time Hermione and Ron caught up to him. Ron stopped a few feet from Harry, panting, hands on his knees. Hermione was also breathing hard, but she seemed to proud to show it.    
  
"Harry, what the--hell?" Ron lifted his head as he spoke. "You just yelled 'room of requirement' and took off?"    
  
He tossed his head back to indicate the wall behind him. "Draco's in there."    
  
"Why?"    
  
"Yeah, Harry," Hermione said. "You didn't really tell us anything when you came and got us from the dorms." She walked over to sit next to Harry and Ron did as well. "What's going on?"    
  
Looking down at his hands, Harry said, "Draco's dad sent word that he'll be picking Draco up in the morning and taking him back to the manor." He bit his lip. "I couldn't convince Draco to let me help. I told him that he didn't have to go and he says that he does and then I went to go get you two for backup to convince him that we can protect him and...now he's gone and locked himself in the Room of Requirement until morning so we can't even try and get things together."    
  
For a moment, neither of his friends knew what to say. "I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That must be hard, considering you two were starting to get along really well."    
  
Harry kept his stare on his hands, unsure if he should tell his friends something that had recently been confirmed. Something he had kind of known about Draco for a while now. Something about himself.    
  
He kept worrying at the inside of his cheek, panic building inside of him for so many reasons.    
  
"I can't just let him go back there."    
  
"Mate, I don't think you have much of a choice."    
  
While he knew that Ron was right--that it was the same thing Draco said--he didn't want to accept it. Did none of them understand that he couldn't just stand idly by and let something bad happen to Draco?    
  
He glanced up at his friends. No. Of course they didn't understand. Probably because there were things that they didn't know.    
  
__________   
  
Draco took a look around the room, wondering what he should do now. He could probably sleep; there were still a few hours before he would have to leave with his father. But he kept fixating on Harry's reaction to Draco saying that he was going with his father. Why would Harry care so much? Draco had only just started being nice to him, right?    
  
It's probably because he's just that amazing of a person. Harry Potter truly was perfect, wasn't he?    
  
Draco pulled his legs up and set his chin on top of his knees. He didn't  _ want _ to leave Harry and he hoped the other man knew that. He actually...really liked Harry. And from the things he had learned so far since waking up, he had apparently liked Harry for a long time. And not just liked but--Draco blushed-- _ liked liked _ .    
  
And he was worried that...well, what if....   
  
What if when Draco left, Harry stopped caring so much?    
  
__________   
  
There were tears close to escaping when Harry looked back up at his friends again. "You don't understand," he said. "I  _ can't _ let anything happen to him."    
  
"Harry, we--"   
  
"No." Harry cut Hermione off. He needed to get this out. He didn't know how his friends would react, but it still had to be said. "I need to say this first." He took a deep breath. "I guess I've kind of known for a while now. I just wasn't entirely sure and I was trying to deny it. But these past couple days with Draco....I know it's true."    
  
Hermione and Ron just waited for him to go on.   
  
__________   
  
Draco pressed his hands against his cheeks, bordering underneath his eyes as he tried not to cry. He didn't want Harry to just write him off as a lost cause or something. And Draco would have no way of knowing how Harry felt. They surely wouldn't be able to contact each other; it would be too risky. He could potentially not see Harry again until the war was over and, of course, no one knew when that would be.    
  
What was he going to do?    
  
It wasn't like he could just open the door and tell Harry that he liked him. They had just started to get along and Draco couldn't ruin that. Maybe in a few years when Harry was able to win the war, they would become friends again. Draco could hope, right?    
  
But something on his left forearm told him that by the time the war was over, he really would be irredeemable. Harry would realize that he had made such a mistake trying to befriend Draco in the first place.    
  
After all, Draco was a death eater, wasn't he?    
  
__________   
  
Harry took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I like Draco."    
  
__________   
  
Draco would be delusional to think that even their friendship now could survive outside of the hidden parts of the castle.    
  
Harry could never like him. Not really.    
  
___________   
  
Hermione and Ron didn't react immediately in those moments, Harry's panic just continued to grow. His lungs felt like the air inside of them was frozen in waiting.    
  
"Well," Ron said and Harry's panic jumped even higher. "I mean, we knew you probably didn't hate him considering how fast you two became friends over the last few days. And we've already talked about how we're fine with you two being friends. It's okay."    
  
Part of Harry could finally exhale but there was something in Ron's words that stopped him. It was like Ron didn't quite....   
  
"Ron, I mean that I  _ like _ Draco. Not just as a friend."    
  
At this, Ron's face changed slightly. Not enough for Harry to name the difference, but there was a difference. "Oh," he said.    
  
Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from his best friend. Because in liking Draco, he had made another confession, hadn't he? And surely Ron would...surely he wouldn't....he was Harry's best friend, right?    
  
Ron's face looked pained as he thought.    
  
__________   
  
Draco shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. This was a war, dammit. He would have to put his schoolboy feelings to the side. It didn't matter if Harry Potter would want to throw him in Azkaban after this was all over. What mattered is that Draco had to help in any way he could. Right now, that meant going with his father so as to not arouse suspicion.    
  
No matter how difficult that was.    
  
__________   
  
"That's why you can't let him go with Lucius." Ron blinked, looking like he was trying not to cry. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be going through. Mate, why didn't you say something sooner?"    
  
Harry's heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest and he lunged over Hermione to throw his arms around Ron.    
  
Ron: his best friend in the entire world, the person who would always stand by him, the most amazing friend he could ever ask for.    
  
Harry sat back and began to explain himself and all of his fear as his two friends nodded, understanding and sympathetic. Before long, the hallway began to lighten and they realized it was the result of the sun coming up.    
  
When they noticed this, Hermione jumped up. "Harry, I have an idea. I'll be right back," she said.    
  
It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for and to run back to Harry and explain her plan. Harry's face lit up as she spoke.    
  
"Hermione, as always, you are bloody brilliant!" Harry said, embracing her. "Thank you."    
  
On the wall behind them, a door materialized. The three stood up as Draco exited the Room of Requirement, a bag slung across his shoulder.    
  
Draco faced Harry. "Harry, I'm sorry," he said. "You know I have to go."    
  
Putting a hand on Draco's shoulder, he gave a sad smile. "I know. You better get back to the hospital wing before your dad gets there."    
  
"Yes. And you probably shouldn't be there when he does."    
  
Draco turned, starting to walk back. He didn't even get a step before spinning around and practically tackling Harry in a hug.    
  
The two stayed as long as they dared, holding each other, before Draco turned and made his way back, refusing to look over his shoulder.    
  
He walked into the empty hospital wing, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his bag beside him. He only had to wait a few minutes before the door swung open and framed the intimidating silhouette of his father.    
  
"Draco," Lucius said. "Come on."    
  
Standing, Draco picked up his bag and followed his father.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> draco, blushing while alone lmao for having feelings for harry because he is just like so repressed when it comes to having those kinds of emotions lmaooo 
> 
> also if you feel like this is kind of moving slowly you are not alone bc that is how i feel and i am so sorry i promise i'll pick it up soon lmao


	8. Mother

Walking in to the Manor, Draco was practically shaking. Harry had been right—he never should have gone.    
  
There were Death Eaters everywhere.    
  
He had barely walked through the door when his mother wrapped her arms around him in a hug. As she pressed him tightly to her, he could hear her whisper, "It's all going to be okay, Draco. We'll explain everything." When she pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, there were tears in her eyes. "I know that being obliviated is scary, but I'm here for you. It's all going to be okay. Come on, dear. You need to rest."    
  
With her hand on his back, she guided him up the familiar steps of his house. But there was something decidedly unfamiliar about this place. Everything looked the same as he remembered, but it was penetrated by a deep cold as if the house's bones were frozen.    
  
His mother walked Draco into his room, closing the door behind her. He sat down on the edge of the bed and came in front of him, pushing his hair back with her hands. "It's all going to be okay, Draco."    
  
"Why are there people here?" Draco asked, remembering that he had to pretend he knew nothing about the war.    
  
"I'll explain everything. I will do everything I can to protect you. I will never stop protecting you. Right now, I have something else I need to go do. Take this time to rest, Draco. A doctor will be coming to visit you soon. Lay down, love. It'll all be okay."   
  
His mother's reassurances only made Draco worry more, but he laid down. When the door to his room clicked behind her, he sat up immediately, panic rising in his throat. It was all he could do not to scream. He needed to calm down, so he decided to do what always would calm him: organize.    
  
Bending over, he picked up his backpack that had been discarded on the floor and dumped its contents out on his bed, starting to sort through them in order to put them back in their place in his room. But something in the pile glinted, catching his eye, and he picked it up.    
  
It was a mirror.    
  
Draco sat down on the bed amidst his clothes, staring at the mirror. What was it doing in his things? He didn't remember packing it.    
  
Then it occurred to him: when Harry said goodbye to him, he had put his hand on Draco's shoulder, near his bag. It was the only time someone would have been close enough to slip something in there, besides his mother. Which meant it must be from Harry.    
  
Which meant it was likely magical.    
  
Feeling slightly stupid, Draco whispered, "Harry?"    
  
There, right in front of him, green eyes popped into the frame of the mirror.    
  
"Draco!" Harry shouted and Draco immediately shushed him, glancing around the room.     
  
"Be quiet! You were right," He glanced back at the door, paranoid. "There are Death Eaters everywhere."    
  
"But you're okay?"    
  
Truth be told, Draco was unsure. But he knew that if he said anything, Harry would likely come running. "For now, at least. I think being obliviated gives me a bit of a pass, do you know what I mean?"   
  
Harry nodded. "I'm worried about you."    
  
That was very nice of him, Draco thought. Harry cared about him.   
  
"What is this mirror?" Draco asked instead, leading his thoughts away from Harry, knowing that this was not a safe space to be having them.    
  
"My dad and my godfather used to use it to communicate. It was Hermione's idea so that we can talk with each other without anyone knowing. All we have to do is say each others' names for it to show us the other side of the mirror. If anyone picks it up, it'll just look normal."    
  
Smiling, Draco nodded. "Very smart, Harry."    
  
"I'll let you reach out to me, though," he said. "I don't want to try at a bad time."    
  
"That's a good idea." Draco leaned closer, still whispering. "There are so many Death Eaters here. I think it might be all of them."    
  
Harry looked like he wanted to say something but then decided against it.    
  
"What?" Draco asked. "You can tell me."    
  
"No," Harry said, shaking his head sharply. "Hermione and Ron think that we should go to the Order and tell them everything that has happened with you. But if we do that I'm afraid they'll want to use you as a spy. That's too risky and I'm not going to let that happen."    
  
Draco pulled away from the mirror a tad. "I'm not helpless, Harry."    
  
"Of course you're not. But, Draco, you don't even have a wand right now. I just don't think it's safe. We should...lay low for now."    
  
"Lay low?" Draco glanced at the door when he realized he may have said that a bit too loud. "All I'm going to be doing is sitting in this damn house. I could collect so much useful information. I could  _ do something _ ."   
  
"Yes, but," Harry looked exasperated. "You don't have to do something. You don't have to be...dragged into this war like I am."    
  
Draco's mouth opened in an offended scoff. Then, he lifted up his bare left arm. "I think I've already been drug into it, thank you, Harry. There's no point in trying to protect me. I'm already here. Might as well be doing something."    
  
Harry's jaw tightened. "I just want you to stay safe. Everyone else in my life is risking everything and I just—I don't want you to do that, too. Everyone is danger. Just give me one person I care about that isn't at risk of dying!" Harry whisper-yelled.    
  
Although Draco felt for Harry, he wasn't going to change his mind. "I'm already at risk for dying. We're well past all that, Harry. And I know you don't like it, but that's what it is. I'm sorry."    
  
Harry pressed his lips together. "I know," he said quietly. "I know." Harry shook his head. "Sorry. It's just hard."    
  
"Of course it is." Draco so wished that he was sitting next to Harry so that he could reach out, take his hand, comfort him. "Listen, Harry," he said. "I think your friends are right. You should go talk to the Order and tell them everything."    
  
At this, Harry's head snapped up. "Draco, did you not hear anything that I just said? They'll probably want to make you a spy."    
  
"It doesn't matter, Harry. They need to know. And if that is what they want then that might be what happens. Look, we need at least one adult who knows about the situation. We're still dealing with my memory loss through all of this, remember? I would kind of like to know if there is anything we could do about that."    
  
When Draco finished, Harry still looked upset. He knew that Draco was right and he knew that he couldn't argue. "Okay," he said. "You should probably go." He ran a hand down his face. "We should probably stick to keeping these conversations short. You know, less likely chance of being caught."    
  
Draco nodded. "So are you going to..." He left the question hanging.    
  
"Yeah," was all Harry said.    
  
Again, Draco simply nodded. They both looked at each other for a moment, neither wanting to be the one to end the conversation.   
  
"Goodbye, Harry," Draco said, aware that his mother would likely be back to check on him soon.    
  
"Bye, Draco." And just like that, Harry was gone.    
  
And just like that, the fear began to set in.    
  
Draco could only imagine how much he would be freaking out if Harry hadn't already explained a few things about the war prior to Draco coming home. But that didn't mean he could shake off the feeling of unease at being completely surrounded by Death Eaters. He didn't know how he would ever sleep with the knowledge that one of them could always be just outside the door.    
  
As he sat, the paranoia refused to leave him and Draco found that he almost couldn't move. He felt like he was being watched, despite knowing the opposite. If he had been watched, someone would have seen his conversation with Harry and he would likely not be left alone right now. Maybe questioned, even. He shuddered at the thought of what that could be like.    
  
In a blink, a fleeting flashback hit him. Luckily, it was there and gone. Draco pulled his sleeves down over his hands, feeling as if there were grime coming up his shoulders. Like someone had been in his body.    
  
He realized, of course, that that was essentially what had happened. His earlier encounter with the woman who claimed she was from St. Mungo's only confirmed the memory he just had: Draco was not the only person to have ever been in his mind.    
  
Putting his hands up around his head, Draco knew that he would do almost anything to keep that from happening again. It was his mind—he should be the only one allowed in it.    
  
But the paranoia refused to leave him. In fact, the longer he sat alone in his room, the more the feeling of being watched would grow.    
  
Unable to sit still any longer, Draco stood and walked swiftly to the door, pulling it wide open and looking out into the hallway, expecting to find a lingering Death Eater. What he found was much worse.    
  
Screaming, Draco jumped back, scrambling to get away from the large snake that began following him. As he backed into the room, Draco tripped over something, his mind too far gone in panic to bother with what and he shoved himself back with the palms of his hands, the snake staring him directly in the face, her eyes looking as if they were changing colors.    
  
Draco thought that was impossible and had the urge to shake his head to clear it of what was obviously a magical mirage in front of him, but some small part of him knew that breaking the gaze between him and the snake would be the death of him.    
  
He heard footsteps thundering down the hall towards him, likely drawn out by the sound of his scream, but he didn't dare move his eyes.    
  
The snake was still making her way towards Draco and she was doing it lazily, as if she had all the time in the world. As if no one would dare stop her. In a frozenly terrifying moment, Draco realized his back had hit the bed.    
  
He couldn't go any further.    
  
Narcissa threw herself around the corner of the door and into the room, lunging toward the large snake without a thought for herself. Still frozen against the bed, Draco saw his mother grab the snake, just as his aunt Bellatrix came into the room after her sister.    
  
"What are you doing!" Bellatrix yelled, watching as her sister threw the snake out of the room. Defeated and hurt, the snake turned and continued down the hall, leaving the three in peace.    
  
"Narcissa," Bellatrix hissed, running to close Draco's door, leaving the three of them in the silent room. She turned on her sister as Narcissa made her way to Draco, wrapping her arms around him. "Have you lost your damn mind?"    
  
Draco's mother held him to her and smoothed his hair. "It's okay, Draco. It's alright. Everything is going to be okay."    
  
"Narcissa," Bellatrix said again. Finally, her sister turned to her. Bellatrix straitened her shoulders. "You could have just killed us all. If the Dark Lord finds out what you have done to Nagini there will be none to defend your actions."    
  
"Bellatrix, she was going to kill my son."    
  
"Then you let your son die for the Dark Lord and you consider it a blessing and an honor."    
  
In shock, Draco blinked up at his aunt. All his life, he had never known Bellatrix. He had simply heard stories of her from his mother's childhood. Narcissa had always made sure to highlight the good parts of her sister in her stories, straying away from the actions that caused Bellatrix to end up in Azkaban in the first place. But now Draco could see exactly why:    
  
Bellatrix was a monster.    
  
Narcissa stood to face her sister, determination clear in the set of her shoulders. "You are not a mother, Bellatrix. I would sacrifice everything for my son. Now, if you would excuse us, sister, Draco has recently been obliviated and is in need of rest."    
  
A pause hung dense in the air between them. "Your recklessness will one day be your downfall, Narcissa." With that remark, Draco's aunt turned and left.    
  
When the door shut behind her, Narcissa's posture softened and she turned back to Draco. "That was likely not the best possible first impression my sister could make on you."    
  
Draco started to open his mouth to tell his mother that he had vague memories of Bellatrix from the past few years, but he stopped short. Even after what she just did for him and what she just said to Bellatrix, Draco was entirely sure if he could trust his own mother.    
  
He was glad he was sitting down when he realized that. It was a strange feeling, to not be sure if he could trust his mother.    
  
As he glanced up at her, she seemed to move in slow motion, brushing the hair back from her face. What would she say if he told her? If he said everything about the muggle amnesia and about Harry about...the mirror.    
  
He wouldn't risk the mirror. He wasn't going to lose Harry.    
  
"Draco, are you alright?"    
  
Jumping slightly, Draco met her eyes. "Yes, Mother."    
  
"Come up," she said, holding out her hand. Draco took it and stood up. For a moment, he looked at their hands joined together and thought again if she would raise an alarm throughout the house if she knew the full truth about his last few days.    
  
"Mother, in the past few days, I have become friends with Harry Potter." He refused to meet her eyes, still staring at those hands. "His friend Hermione thinks that my memory loss is not entirely a result of the oblivate, but rather from head trauma. She thinks this because I've been...getting memories back."    
  
The entire time Draco spoke, he wished that he could make the words stop. But they had already been said and there was no taking them back now.    
  
His mother's hand slipped out of his and Draco could have sworn that he felt his heart fall through him and shatter on the floor.    
  
Narcissa went to the door and opened it in a single, swift motion, sticking her head into the hallway and looking both ways.    
  
Then she shut it behind her and pressed her back against it for a moment before returning to Draco.    
  
"You can't say those things," she said, speaking in hushed tones. Her hands came up and cupped his face, brushing his hair back. "You can't mention Harry Potter or that you have become friends with him. Don't say anything about this to anyone, Draco. Do you understand?  _ They will hurt you. _ "    
  
For a moment, Draco stayed silent. "I know. I remember."    
  
"For your safety, darling, let's just say that it was a very intense oblivate that was cast. Let's not talk about this muggle amnesia, okay? It's dangerous here. And do not ever say that man's name again. Do you understand?"    
  
Narcissa waited for Draco to respond to her, to tell her what she needed to hear.    
  
Draco took a deep breath. "Mother, there's more."    
  
"No, no, no, no, Draco, there can't be more. More just puts you even further in danger." She was brushing his hair back almost frantically now, tears beginning to start in her eyes.    
  
She sat them both down on the bed, facing each other, and took Draco's hands. "Okay. Tell me."    
  
Draco opened his mouth and the fear from earlier gripped him. Could he trust his mother?    
  
Narcissa sensed her son's hesitation. "It's okay, darling. You can tell me. I will keep whatever secrets you have and I will do everything in my power to protect you. I promise."    
  
That was enough for Draco. He nodded. "Because of the...muggle amnesia, Harry is going to speak to some of the people that he knows. That means...the..." He hesitated to say it out loud.    
  
His mother nodded curtly, cutting him off. "It's better not to say it. I understand your meaning. Is that all?"    
  
And at that moment, Draco knew he couldn't keep another secret from his mother. Especially not the one that was killing him, secret and alone in his heart.    
  
Tears began to well up in his eyes. "I think I'm in love with him. Are they going to kill him?"    
  
Narcissa sat unresponding, her face frozen. Long moments passed as Draco felt hot tears begin to run down his face but he couldn't move. He sat watching his mother's face, looking for an answer.    
  
She leaned forward. "Draco, you are never to repeat any of this. That is a given. But what you just told me....You have to pretend that that doesn't exist. If you let yourself feel those things, you will die. Forget about whether or not he is going to die. Forget about him completely. Draco," She reached out, taking his hand. "Do you understand me? Never repeat those words again.    
  
"As far as you are concerned, Harry Potter does not exist." Her voice was barely a hissing whisper as she spoke, her hand gripping his tight. "Push him from your mind. Obliviate yourself again if you have to. But never say that name, never say those words, and never feel those things again."    
  
Pushing back her hair with another breath, Narcissa continued. "Draco, I will do anything for you. I would die for you without hesitation. But you need to act in your own interests. That means listening to everything I have just said. All of the words that have been exchanged between us in these last few minutes were never spoken. Do you understand? This is war, Draco. These people are evil. They will kill you."    
  
Mouth dry, Draco gave a slow nod. "I understand, Mother."    
  
Narcissa nodded. "And, Draco, for the love of Merlin, do  _ not _ say anything about this to your Father." With that, she turned and left, leaving Draco sitting on his bed, feeling utterly cold.    
  
He realized the mirror had been sitting on top of his bedspread this entire time. His mother likely saw it. If she had any idea of what it was, why didn't she take it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, friends!!


	9. Phase One

Harry dropped the mirror in frustration, the image of Draco still fresh in his mind. He didn't want to be a dick about the whole situation, but he couldn't just let Draco put himself in danger. He shook his head.    
  
He never should have let Draco leave.    
  
It wasn't like he could have stopped him, but still. Harry didn't think the regret would ever leave him.    
  
He stood up from his bed, tucking the mirror under the pillow. He needed to talk to someone, so he headed down to the common room to find Ron and Hermione.    
  
They were sitting together in the corner, the common room scarcely populated for the middle of the day--it was finally sunny and warm enough to be outside so everyone else seemed to be making the most of it. Harry walked right up to his friends and crashed down next to them.    
  
"Hey, Harry," Hermione greeted. "You look down. Is it because of Draco leaving?"    
  
"Yeah," Harry said, leaning back. "I just talked to him and...he's not safe. I never should have let him go back there. What if something happens to him?"   
  
"I know you're worried, Harry, but you made the right decision. Right now, he can easily play at innocent, what with everyone thinking he can't remember a thing since he was eleven. If he stayed, he would have been put in more danger."    
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Harry covered his face with a hand. "I know all that. And Draco isn't about to let me get him out of there, either." He removed his hand, giving his friends an incredulous look. "Do you know what he wants to do?" For extra measure, he glanced around the common room and lowered his voice. "He wants to be a spy for the Order."    
  
"That's crazy!" Ron exclaimed. "If he just plays innocent he can stay out of danger the best. Out of all of the options, that's the safest for him. But if he starts being a  _ spy? _ He'll get himself killed!"    
  
Harry shot to a proper sitting position. "That's what I said! Thank you!" He crashed back then, feeling defeated. "But he's being stubborn about it. He wants us to go and talk to Dumbledore and the Order and everyone and I said that that could be dangerous because what if they  _ do _ actually want to make him a spy. But, he wants to know more about his memory and he wants to actually do something to help."    
  
Harry and Ron instinctively looked to Hermione. "If he wants to spy, then let him. I don't see why we would hold him back from that."    
  
"Hermione, are you serious?" Harry asked. "He could die! He still doesn't have his full memories back and he doesn't even have a wand! He's defenseless!"    
  
Mouth set in a line, Hermione turned fully to face her friends. "Just because Draco lost all his memories doesn't mean you two can act dumb. Sure, he can be a drama queen, but Draco can handle himself. He's been handling himself this entire year. You should give him more credit."    
  
"More credit?" Harry asked. "Hermione, he  _ doesn't have any memories or a wand. _ It would be irresponsible of us to make him a spy and put him in danger like that."    
  
"But think about it. Would he be in nearly as much danger as our other spies? He would be the least suspected."    
  
Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you're actually considering this."    
  
"All I'm saying is if that's what he wants, then who are we to stop him? It's not like he would be going out of his way to get information. He would likely just report back on whatever he happened to encounter."    
  
"And what if the information he gives us leads them to him? What then, Hermione? All they have to do is some fancy legilimency and they'll know everything."    
  
Hermione sighed. "I'm not saying it's a safe thing. This is war. Nothing is safe. And probably most of the information he gives us will be either of no importance or something we would have gotten from our other spies anyway. Besides, it's not like we're arguing about a made decision. The Order may or may not allow it. We should go to Dumbledore."    
  
"I agree with Hermione," Ron said.    
  
Harry looked toward Ron with an open mouth.    
  
"Not about letting Malfoy be a spy if he wants to," Ron rushed out. "But about the going to Dumbledore part. We should have done that much earlier. Like when we realized that Malfoy was getting his memories back."    
  
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide if his friends were right (and his emotions were just getting in the way).    
  
"I just--" Harry started, voice quiet. "Everyone in my life is in a constant state of danger. Everyone is having near-death experiences all the time. Can't one person just be allowed to be safe? Am I not allowed that?"    
  
Hermione laid a hand on top of Harry's. "I understand what you mean, Harry, but this is a war. I also wish that all my friends are safe but we just don't have that luxury right now. The best way to make sure everyone is no longer in danger is to see this through until the end and win. And the quickest way to do that is by using every single person willing to help."    
  
Harry took a moment to process what Hermione said with a few deep breaths. He knew there was so much truth in the things that she was saying, but he just wanted to hold Draco's safety close, not let anything happen to him. He was just so defenseless right now and Harry had helped him into that situation.    
  
He opened his eyes, sitting up with another calming breath. "Alright, fine. Let's go try and talk to Dumbledore, then."    
  
The trio stood, Hermione and Ron not needing to verbalize that they were--no doubt about it--going with him. The three were in this together, as always. Nothing could change that.    
  
They made their way to the statue of the gargoyle and up the set of stairs to find Dumbledore's office empty. The headmaster wasn't around.    
  
"Do we just wait?" Ron asked. "I mean, he'll have to be back at some point."    
  
Hermione made her way to the window and looked out on the grounds. "C'mon," she then said, leading her friends out of the office. "It's such a nice day that he's outside. We'll go get him."    
  
Harry and Ron trailed after Hermione until Harry stepped up as they got closer to Dumbledore.    
  
"Headmaster," Harry said and Dumbledore turned towards the three.    
  
"Yes, Harry?"    
  
Suddenly unsure how to go about this, Harry glanced at his friends for help. Ron, surprisingly, took charge. "It's about Malfoy, sir. We know he was obliviated and was sent home with his parents. But...that's not all we know."    
  
"Well," Dumbledore responded. "I would assume that you would know so much, as it is public knowledge. But please tell me what else you have heard about the situation."    
  
"It isn't what we've heard," Hermione said. "It's what we know. We saw Draco in the hospital wing--Harry broke his arm the other day playing Quidditch--and we've made a few discoveries." She stepped closer. "His memory loss isn't entirely the result of the obliviate. I believe, sir, that he is experiencing amnesia as a result of head trauma. I have come to this belief because he seems to be getting memories back, often triggered by certain events or words, or sensory images."   
  
"That's quite the discovery, Miss Granger." Dumbledore smiled at her. "Thank you for telling me this."    
  
"That's still not all," Harry rushed out. He glanced towards his friends and they gave him encouraging looks, all three of them knowing he had to be the one to continue. "We know Draco's a Death Eater, sir. I understand you likely already know. It was quite a shock for him when he saw the Dark Mark on his arm; he doesn't remember taking it. Over the last few days, Draco and I have...become friends. When he left, Professor, I gave him half a two-way mirror."    
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Was it by chance the one your father and Sirius Black used? They always thought they were so clever using it in class but the professors knew. They just couldn't catch them with it." Dumbledore chuckled. "As for Mr. Malfoy's alliances, yes, I was aware of them. But you can leave the worrying over that to me, Mr. Potter."    
  
Harry couldn't take it any longer. "He wants to spy for the Order," he blurted out. "Also, he wants people to keep looking into his amnesia because he would kind of like for it to go away."    
  
"Well," Dumbledore said. "That is all a very serious matter."    
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited for the Headmaster to continue, but he did not. He acted like that was the end of the conversation, like what they had just said really wasn't so serious after all.    
  
"Professor?" Harry prompted. "He's not safe. He's told me that there are Death Eaters all over at Malfoy Manor. We know that they're there. And--"    
  
"Mr. Potter, I am grateful that you have brought me this information. I understand that you are in a unique position and I would very much like to help Mr. Malfoy with his memory issues but I am afraid I would not be of much help in the matter. The best thing that you three can do is to continue what you have been doing."    
  
"So nothing?" Harry almost yelled. "Because that's what we've been doing. For years, we have just been sitting around and waiting for Voldemort to attack me when he feels like it. And now he's recruiting students at Hogwarts? Are we just going to sit around and wait as his numbers continue to grow? What are we supposed to--"    
  
Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he stopped, realizing what he was doing. He gave a thankful glance back at Ron. "I'm sorry, Professor. You know much more about the situation than I do and if that's what you want us to do, then that's what we'll do."    
  
Dumbledore nodded and gave Harry a smile before returning his attention to whatever it was he had been watching. Harry didn't bother to investigate.    
  
The three made their way back to the castle defeated, Harry trudging along between his friends. He just felt so frustrated: no one ever wanted to do anything, it seemed.    
  
Or, he supposed he shouldn't say that. Draco was desperate to do something.    
  
Oh, how he wished right then that he could talk to Sirius. Sirius would have the answers and if he didn't, he would suggest some crazy plan to Harry that would actually take action.    
  
He really missed him. And that was exactly why he didn't want all of his friends in danger--it was exactly why he wanted this war over, whatever he had to do to make it like that.    
  
The three found themselves back in the common room once more and Hermione and Ron sat back down on the same sofa.    
  
"Care to join us, Harry?" Hermione said lightly, clearly ready to try and cheer him up.    
  
Harry sighed. "I've got some homework to do actually," he said, but didn't move towards the stairs.    
  
Ron's eyebrows shot up. "'Mione, if he's trying to escape to do homework, there is something seriously wrong. We've got to fix him, don't you think?"    
  
Hermione gave him an appraising look before nodding. "Yes, Ron, I think you're quite right. Our friend needs some good cheering up."    
  
"Guys, no." Harry ran a hand down his face. "I just--I just want to go and sleep or something."    
  
"It's the middle of the day?" Ron said.    
  
Harry felt a lump in his throat beginning to form. "Yeah," was all he said.    
  
"Sit down, Harry."    
  
Feeling like his arms were weighed down by some evil spell, Harry sank into a chair across from his friends.    
  
"Harry," Ron began. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday, when Draco left."    
  
For a moment, Harry was confused but then he remembered confessing to his friends that he has feelings for Draco.    
  
"I know you're probably feeling all sorts of things right now and I think your feelings for Draco are only complicating matters. Maybe we should...talk about it?"    
  
Hermione gave Ron a wide-eyed look. "You want to talk about feelings, Ron?"    
  
Ron shrugged. "I know it's not my favorite thing, but Harry seems to be in genuine distress and I can't let my friend feel alone in that. Even if it is feelings for Malfoy," he joked and for a second it was enough to make Harry smile. "So what's going on in that head of yours?"    
  
Harry took a deep breath and tried not to choke on his words. "It's like everyone I care about keeps dying off. I'm constantly worried about who it's going to be next. And I can't help thinking it's going to be Draco because I couldn't protect him and I let him go into a terribly dangerous situation and now if he gets hurt, I'm going to feel like it's my fault because I can't protect anybody and maybe if I just tried a little harder I could find someway to make this all end and I could keep everyone but I--I can't, I--I don't know what to do--and--"    
  
Both of his friends were then at his sides as Harry began to cry. There was nothing they could think to say. They could point out the irrationality of his feelings, but they knew he already knew that. The truth of it was that Harry was partially right: everyone they cared about was in constant danger and none of them could do anything to stop it.    
  
"I know how you feel," Ron said.    
  
Harry wiped his eyes and looked at his friend. "You do?"    
  
"Yeah. I mean..." He took a deep breath. "I'm worried about my family. A lot of them are in the Order and they're working on fighting the Death Eaters and actually making an effort to end the war and I'm at school." Ron laughed, short and sharp. "It just feels so ridiculous, doesn't it? There's a war going on and my family is fighting and I'm at school. I don't know if I'll be alive tomorrow but instead of working to make sure that the world hasn't ended, I have to write a fucking essay. It's absurd!   
  
"So, yeah, Harry. I get it."    
  
The two shared a look, both understanding the plight of the other, how much his friend wanted to do something and how useless he felt.    
  
They were just starting to calm themselves back down when Hermione burst out in anger:    
  
"It shouldn't be that way!"    
  
Both turned towards her, surprised at her outburst. "We shouldn't have to choose between laying down our lives in a war and taking proper schooling like kids of our age should! We shouldn't have to choose! We should just live in a world where our livelihoods aren’t threatened like this.  _ That _ is what is ridiculous,  _ that _ is what's absurd!"    
  
She straightened up, thoroughly emblazoned now. "Dammit, I want an education. I want to go to school and not have to worry about if my school will be attacked. And  _ damn _ the Ministry for not doing anything about it. This is a crisis and no one seems to care. Well, you know what? I won't have it.  _ I won't have it! _ "    
  
"Okay, Hermione," Ron said. "Let's take a few deep breaths and--"   
  
"Ronald, do not dare tell me to calm down."    
  
Ron shut his mouth and looked towards Harry for help but found none.    
  
Hermione put her hands on her hips and there was a glint in her eye. "Well, you're both fed-up aren't you?" Both of her friends nodded. "Well, good, cause I am too. I say we don't stand for it anymore."    
  
"And how do you suggest that?" Harry asked. "They're not going to let us join the Order."    
  
"Then we do it on our own." She nodded, as if that settled it.    
  
Before Harry and Ron could continue questioning, Hermione walked over to her bag that had been left laying next to the sofa and removed a long strip of parchment.    
  
She spread it out on the table and set a few quills and a bottle of ink next to it. "If the Ministry won't protect our school, we will."    
  
As Ron and Harry watched, Hermione began drawing on the parchment the perimeters of Hogwarts, labelling entrances and important places on the grounds.    
  
"Ron, hand me another piece of parchment, will you?" She asked as she was almost done. "We'll enchant it like we did the signup sheet for the DA." Dotting the last line of the castle, she straightened.    
  
"We aren't the only students at Hogwarts who feel like we're just sitting here and waiting for Voldemort to attack us. We aren't the only ones who feel useless." She paused, waiting for them to get it.    
  
"So," Ron began. "We protect the school by uniting the students? In a secret group like we did with the DA?"    
  
Hermione nodded, triumphant. "Exactly. And that's just the start of my plans." She gestured towards the other piece of parchment Ron had retrieved for her. "Let's start by making a list of everyone we think would be a good participant. Remember, this has to say secret."    
  
Ron sat down at the table and picked up a quill, but Harry was still looking intently at Hermione.    
  
"What are your other plans, 'Mione?"    
  
She smiled in return. "Don't worry about that. We'll get there. Let's just call this...Phase One."    
  
Harry was itching to know more but he knew how Hermione could be so he took a seat at the table and started brainstorming names.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao ngl i started writing about hermione being pissed about the ministry not doing anything to protect the school when their lives were being threatened and like,,,,,HEEEE, i live in america and my brain was like 'fuck this is--this is--how yours truly feels about gUNS' like i didn't intend it that way i was in the middle of writing and i was like fyUCK 
> 
> !!! we will be back w draco next chapter yaaay!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please feel free to leave a comment and/ or message me on [ tumblr ](https://www.shelvesuponshelves.tumblr.com)
> 
> I am also currently taking ficlet requests on [ tumblr ](https://www.shelvesuponshelves.tumblr.com)


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